FLEETING FRIENDSHIPS

 

                                                

 

"Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue, a wonderful living side by side can grow, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole against the sky." Rainer Maria Rilke 

                                    

FLEETING FRIENDSHIPS

Revised June 17, 2021

For many years, I found friendships fleeting and exceedingly painful. People who professed to be friends throughout childhood and high school would attend classes with me, socialized with me, but never really knew me. 

The slightest transgression would result in the termination of the relationship mainly on their part. There were never any deep conversations, or shared intimate experiences.

I had had three people throughout my life, who I considered to be, and who professed to be my best friend and yet they abandoned me unexpectedly.

People and situations change. Friends move away, others change friends when someone more interesting comes along.

I never did ask too many personal questions nor divulged my innermost feelings and experiences to anyone, not even to my closest family members. 

Perhaps we do not know one another, or even ourselves as well as we would like to think that we do.

I never understood during my childhood, adolescence, and even during my thirties, a relationship is only as close as we allow it to be. 

It is dependent upon how many parts of ourselves we are willing to share with another human being. I had little experience with genuine friendships. I was of the mindset that sisters and families fought but not friends.

Throughout my adolescence, a couple of my friends (six years senior to me, one was a neighbour and the other my elementary school French teacher) did not quarrel and argue with me. They never added to my suffering. They did not cause me any grief. They were my sages, mentors, teachers, and guides. I learned a lot from them (those older than me) except how to interact with people my own age.

I did manage to keep two lifelong friendships from my youth. Angie who had also been my French teacher. The other Lorraine, who I had met in high school when we were both sixteen and in grade ten. Lorraine is six months younger than me. We shared several classes together. 

Both these women knew me since I was a shy, awkward, teenager who seldom spoke or socialized. But both saw something in me worth pursuing, nurturing, and keeping. They never let my moodiness deter them. They never pressured me to talk if I did not want to. They never made me feel invisible. What I remembered and appreciated most about them was their kindness toward me and their acceptance of me. 

I had never shared a deep, intimate, relationship with another woman until I was twenty-seven years old. The day I met her, in 1984 I flitted and fluttered about like a butterfly. I simply could not sit still in her presence. To say that it was embarrassing is an understatement. She made me incredibly nervous, and I never understood why at the time.

I never imagined that this person would become as near and dear to me as she had. Or that I would value the relationship more than any other friendship I'd previously known, or since. The fight or flight mode kicked in. I sensed she would leave an indelible mark on my life. But I knew too, she would one day break my heart. I was pulled in two opposite directions from the onset and that pretty much defined the relationship. 

It became the most bittersweet, tumultuous, and complicated friendship I had ever had. I quarrelled with her more than I had with my mother, or husband, or sons.

Once we dove deeper into one another's psyches. It was an emotional, mental, and spiritual roller coaster ride. I never fully understood why she had meant so much to me. I suppose because she saw past my walls, kicked down those doors, and challenged me on every level imaginable. I believed friends ought not to hurt one another, and none had as much as we did. One should not feel so drained and exhausted daily. To say the friendship was intense would also be an understatement. The damage we inflicted upon one another was irreparable.

I understood my moods, past traumas, and especially my bipolar disorder (undiagnosed and untreated caused much friction between us). But that was not to say, she did not have her own baggage and faults too. We were like fire and dynamite. 

Once referred to as "two mirrors reflecting one another that the slightest thing we said or did, somehow reflected and effected the other." 

Years later, what was the beginning of the end for me regarding our friendship, was a remark she (a social worker by profession) made during a telephone conversation: "It was bad enough I have to work with people like you all day with my job. I don't need it in my personal life too." Her words cut me to the bone. And yet, in hindsight knowing the dark side of humanity she encountered on a daily basis, I realized that I was an added weight, a burden she neither wanted nor needed in her life. I was grateful for the twelve years we shared. But feeling as I did, the distance between so great, the communication and intimacy gone, I suppose from then on, I made it impossible for her to stay and subconsciously I set about to leave her before she would eventually leave me

In the end, we distanced ourselves from one another, the communication was rote and more a matter of obligation on her part, then sincerity. I knew she was just being polite whenever she called. The calls to me hurt as I could almost predict what she would say. I asked her not to call me anymore because I knew she wanted out of the relationship, and I preferred that we cut the cord rather than continue dragging it out. I felt she did not want or need me anymore. 

In hindsight, had we not parted ways, I would not have grown into the woman I am today, twenty-seven years later. 

The day in which I ended our relationship, or more to the point, I had forced her to. I did not tell her this directly. But rather, left a message on her answering machine not to call me anymore. I am not proud of this. She deserved better. It is one of my deepest regrets. But I could not imagine an amicable way of terminating the relationship, to walk away if I had seen her or spoken to her in person. We would only wind up arguing and hurting one another more. It was already clear that any time I wanted to talk about the distance between us, she would become defensive and angry. I did not know how to handle this strain or give her her space. I could not give her what she needed 

The fact that she never once called me afterwards, except when my mother died in 2007 and her sister in 2015, she never fought to maintain our friendship, it convinced me she had not valued it half as much as I did. 

Perhaps, we both just grew weary of the quarreling and constant misunderstandings between us. The fact we loved and cared about one another was never the issue. This was a given. But the problems between us had to be worked on apart. 

Though over the years, I had tried to make amends after my illness was diagnosed properly and adequately treated, and I was stable and more in control of my life. She wanted no part of me. There were no second chances. She believed and may still believe people do not change. I, on the other hand,  believe they can and do.

Years beforehand, in 1986 during a tumultuous quarrel, she nonchalantly predicted I would one day have a network of friends. I scoffed in response. As I had few friends at the time. Ten years later when we parted company for good, I have since made numerous friends over the years, both healthy and mentally ill, either in person, in my community/neighbourhood, through university and online through this disorder. Also through a public and private support page and group I founded on Facebook for people living with bipolar disorder. Many, many, persons who understand my illness and I no longer had the upsets I once had with her. There was no longer any need for explanations or apologies. I found persons who didn't judge and who understood me in ways my closest and dearest relatives could not.

I found my voice and have discussed mental illness publicly at meetings, lectures and such at colleges, high schools, a rally and once at a church.

I have no fears of speaking to live audiences and writing and talking about this disorder. I could identify and express my feelings honestly with others in person, at long last, and not merely in writing. I do not let things fester. I am far more assertive and in control of my life. I have matured and evolved a great deal. I allowed myself to grieve, to accept the things I cannot control or change, and finally to move on

Though I had lost the single most important friendship I had ever had and have never experienced that bond as intensely again. If not for her, for the lessons she taught me, for the love she brought me, and believe it or not, in letting me go,  I would not have made the changes I needed to make, set the priorities I needed to set in my life, and gotten the help that I needed, or be where I am today had I not met her and we parted company as we had. I cannot deny this. And I won't regret that chapter of my life though bittersweet. 

Love and Prayers

Lynn Marie

Lynn Marie Ramjass