I recently parted ways with a friendship of over twenty five years.  Infact,  I am still in the early ending of it. It feels bizarre and heartbreaking, because she was not only one of my closest besties, but rather awkwardly remains my next door neighbour.

So how does someone leave a friend they have shared so much herstory with? Somebody they have known for more than half of their entire life and pretty much hit every single milestone imaginable with.

From entering womanhood to raising our children, splitting up from our partners to starting new careers, embracing health and wellness, then becoming vegan and menopausal.  You name it, together we had done it and been a reliable, safe space for one another.

Or so I had thought,  but hindsight is called that for a reason.  What I was not open to acknowledging, was that all along, there had been a subtle power dynamic at play between her dominance and my compliance.

Though I had initially struggled with articulating and asserting my needs, I had over time learnt to challenge the people pleasing parts of me and through exploring and working on healing my traumas and triggers, I was able to knit together my dislocated self.

Committing to transformation can be a lonely journey that has the risk of casualties.  Friends and family may not like the evolved version of you standing before them and you may feel like you have outgrown them.  Sadly,  I had to accept that the friend I rooted for, not only had never rooted for me, but then..  she had never rooted for herself.

After the dissolution of her unhappy marriage, she fully immersed herself into the role of victim and needed people to find at fault.

The saying: ‘Hurt people hurt people ‘ could not have been more true.

Over dinner one day,  she asked why I had never told her to leave her husband.  I was gobsmacked because upon seeing her in distress throughout her marriage on many occasions, I had asked why she continued to stay.  I reminded her that she had sometimes shut down the conversation,  said she wanted him to be the one who ended it or that she remained for financial reasons.

When people are incapable or unwilling of accepting responsibility, they often blame others and I was now the enemy.

I arranged for us to clear up the misunderstanding at one of our favourite local hangouts. Referring to #dinnergate, she said she had felt attacked,  that I had used her words against her and she no longer felt safe around me.

I was in total disbelief.  It was like we did not know each other. I offered my side of the picture and admittedly walked on egg shells to keep things from escalating.  I did not want a scene after all and though it may have appeared that we had smoothed things over, the words she uttered of not feeling safe around me stabbed at my heart with the intention she chose them to.

When a few days later,  she had messaged me with an article about how people with trauma cannot be held accountable for their reactions due to their triggers, I realised that this was yet another teachable moment she wanted to give me and one that both excused her behaviour and would set the tone for us moving forward.

As someone who has been on both sides of a trauma response, I dispute that rationale passionately. We are all capable of learning and growing if we choose to.   It is so not acceptable to project our issues on others because we are in pain.  We have to heal.  We deserve to heal.

I replied saying that and thanking her for her many years of companionship,  but that ultimately, as the tides had shifted between us, it was best I depart our friendship with love.  I sincerely wished her well and she messaged back echoing the same sentiments. I bumped into her on my way to work the other day and it was surprisingly not awkward at all!

Though, I write this to say it is crucial to be an advocate and best friend to yourself first, so you can share your highest good with those who are truly deserving of receiving it.  And to all my past and present friends, thank you for the many blessings and lessons you have all taught me.