Sharing Our Stories

Two weeks ago, we learned of the tragic death of someone in our family.  Being a deeply personal loss, I shared this information with only a couple of people with whom I felt closest.   

However, those I told looked confused, muttering an “I’m sorry” before changing the subject or rushing off.  One curled her lip, almost in disgust.  One never responded to my email yet sent a text about her own life’s issues. 

It is a painful realization to see that a person or a relationship is not how I perceived it.  To realize that the effort I put into being a friend has been one-sided.  To feel foolish for thinking it was more than it was.  And to realize that I am lacking true friendship.  This piece is about being in this place.

I am that person.

I am the person you call when you are pissed at your spouse, your boss, your mom.

I am the person you talk to when the “popular” moms are being bitchy again, when the soccer association is making you crazy and when the crazy teacher is again assigning 3 hours of homework a night.

I am the person you bitch to about your car troubles, your ex- troubles, your handyman troubles.

I am the person you vent to when your kid isn’t sleeping through the night, your teen isn’t talking to you or your child isn’t doing their homework.

I am the person who listens and offers advice and empathy.  I am the person who hugs you and tells you that it’s going to be OK, that you are doing a good job and you are enough.

I am that person.

I am also that person who congratulates you on the raise, but isn’t invited to celebrate.

The person who oohs and ahhs over pictures of your new niece, nephew, renovation, and receives no responses on her own.


I am the person who rejoices for your birthday parties, your vacations, your graduations, but who is never invited.

The person who cheers for your kids winning citizenship awards, championships, solos in the band concert, yet hears nothing when my child is awarded.

I am that person.

But do you SEE me?  Do you really see me as me, and not as that person?

Have you noticed that I have withdrawn?  That I am not engaging with you. 

That I am not seeking you out?

Have you noticed that my responses are less enthusiastic than normal?  That my advice isn’t as sound?  That I am edging away from our conversation.

Have you noticed me trying to tell you what’s going on in my life, only to see confusion cross your face.  To hear your platitudes and superficial assurances.  To witness you change the subject back to your issue du jour. 

To see my email go unanswered.  My text go ignored.  My posts left with no comments.

Do you see me as ME?  Not as an extension of you, not as a sounding board, not as your trusted confidant? 

Do you see that you continue to make withdrawals without depositing back into our “friendship”?  That you take from me what I willingly give, and give only the barest crumbs in return? 

My reserves empty, my heart aching, my soul longing, I now see that I have earned the right to hear your stories, but you have not earned the right to hear mine. 

I see that I have permitted you to breach my boundaries, to overwhelm my reserves and fill yourself with my love and empathy.

I see that I deceived myself into thinking we had a friendship.

I see that I cannot do that any longer.  I see that you only notice that you are not receiving. 

I see that I feel more alone than ever.

This may be the ending of our story.  One way or another, it is the beginning of my new story, and I will fill it with people who have earned the right to hear it.