I wonder where they are and how their significant other is. If they’ve traveled recently and where. But if I saw them walking toward me in a store and they didn’t see me? I’d probably walk the other way.
I still laugh to myself at our inside jokes—oh, how we could laugh— and I think about them every time I look at framed photos of great times in our friendship. And if they called me tomorrow, I might not pick up the phone.
Too much time has passed since they ghosted me. And I don’t have room in my life for anyone who can walk away so easily.
I think about them when I get out my holiday ornaments or when I make a really great meal or find a fabulous wine. Or when I see my old teddy bear high atop my bookshelf. I remember the early days of the pandemic and how we kept each other company in our vulnerability. I can still hear their voice in my head, clear as day.
I probably will until the day I die.
When I see our mutual acquaintances I don’t mention them — there’s really nothing to say. I don’t know how they are, nor have I seen them in a long time. They vanished.
Maybe they have a list of grievances against me, God knows I’ve seen them make their words weapons and have no desire to be wounded in that way, but the truth is…
I don’t want to hear grievances when I know I was as good a friend as anyone to them all the time and especially at some of the hardest times in our lives.
Maybe they think I ghostedthem. But it’s pretty obvious that I am not the ghosting type.
Maybe it’s not about me at all.
Friendships can be difficult. The truth is we’re all adults and we’re all out here trying our best and yes, we’re all failing sometimes.
And that means we’re failing each other sometimes, too. It’s just part of it. We don’t mean to—we really do mean well—but sometimes we step in it unintentionally and can’t find a way to make it right again. And then, sometimes we become collateral damage in someone else’s internal war. In their own dysfunctions.
I want them to be happy, although I know that happiness is complicated for them, and I want them to have all of the wins—and they will and they will talk about them. And there’s nothing wrong with that: a win’s a win and should be celebrated. I remember celebrating many with them.
Theirs. Not mine.
Which is telling.
I want them to get out of bed in the morning and feel the sunlight on their cheeks and I want the coffee they drink to be only the best and the tea the most authentically spiced, and so many Michelin stars in their lives they can’t count–but they aren’t my call list anymore. We are not even old friends, which was a surprise and, I will admit, hard to accept.
I would’ve been there for them through thick and thin, no matter what. Until the final act. But truth is, I was never sure they’d do the same. My own hubris led me to think I could be one of the very very few they were there for in that way. Because I never felt that one for all, all for one thing from them. I always knew there’d be reasons why they couldn’t be.
I’m certain that would surprise them to hear.
Sometimes a crack turns into a sever and a sever turns into an amputation and that’s understandable
but ghosting is more complicated because it remains unresolved. And while I want them to have true friends I do not want to walk on eggshells with mine or worry they have a list of things they think I did to offend them but never addressed in the moment.
Or maybe it has nothing to do with me at all. How would I know?
Though phantom pains still haunt me deep inside, it’s easier that they are gone. Much easier.
I think it must be okay to say that I miss them sometimes, but no, that doesn’t mean I want to know them anymore. This new version of me – this version that’s a little more integrated and a lot stronger and even a bit lighter – well, it can’t go further than missing them.
And yes, there are words that could pick up the pieces and stitch them back together, but that’s not how they roll. They’ve rarely said words like that to anyone. Maybe never. They’ve always held on to their grudges or their hurt and pain like badges of courage. There’s no reason for me to think it would be different for me.
Or maybe they just don’t feel we have enough for a friendship any longer. And I want that to be ok with me and maybe it is.
This one hits hard, thank you Carol. I was ghosted eight years before the pandemic, after my daughter was born. I was stuck in a place of postpartum depression so she couldn’t understand my feelings when she didn’t want kids. We shared so much and now that’s all gone. But I moved on to other friends, other moms who I could commiserate with. And she moved on with her childless friends. But it still hurts because I don’t know what happened.
Oh Rachel, I am so sorry. It is a terrible thing to go through. We move forward, I’d say, but never really move on. How could we? I am sending much love your way.
I think breakups are inevitable and never easy, but ghosting a friend or lover is the worst. It’s a form of cowardice, fleeing from difficult communication. It doesn’t allow the closure you need after severing the relationship. I’ve had a couple of instances with friends, but I was too stubborn and showed up to tell them that they mattered too much to me for me to allow it to end that way. That could have gone two very different ways, but in both cases, we healed the crack and saved the friendship. My partner is still reeling from being ghosted by a life-long and best friend. It’s been six years and he’s not over it. Ghosting sucks.
Yes, it’s hard to deal with someone who unexpectedly leaves. A couple of girlfriends I had when our sons were buddies in high school left after graduation, no more communication. A bizarre feeling. If I like someone, I want to be friends forever. But for some people, it’s only as long as its convenient. Oh well, life goes on.
I dearly relate to so much of what you wrote. It’s been almost seven months since I decided to take a long pause from a friendship that dates back to the mid 70s. In early January, I decided this friend’s overly critical and judgmental nature was not serving me. We live in different states, so there is no chance of running into her or seeing mutual friends or acquaintances. I did not want to keep having to justify when she would start to interrogate me over the phone. The final episode concerned a medical issue I am dealing with. I guess you could say I was the “ghoster.” Today was the first time I actually spent more than fleeting moments thinking about what I did. So your column really hit me hard. Part of me wants to apologize, and I do think I will do that, but I have to be clear about my motives for doing so. I believe I don’t want to re-establish our communication since I had been on pins and needles with her aggressiveness for so long. Hope this is not TMI. Thanks, Carol, for giving me some excellent insight. I know I didn’t read your column by accident.
Karen, do you really think you need to apologize? Given that you do not want to continue, I think you’re righ to ask yourself: What outcome would you consider beneficial? So many questions…
Yes, you are right, Carol. I need to be really clear in my own head about what outcome, if any, I would consider beneficial. It’s apparent at this point I don’t have any answers. An apology can’t be tinged with justification from my standpoint.
When you lose a friend, and you cannot understand the reason…one always looks for a fault. Not in them, but in YOU. Which is hard, but it happens. People change…I know dumb answer. But it is true. With your incite and your care of others, I hope the hurt will heal. Beth
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This one hits hard, thank you Carol. I was ghosted eight years before the pandemic, after my daughter was born. I was stuck in a place of postpartum depression so she couldn’t understand my feelings when she didn’t want kids. We shared so much and now that’s all gone. But I moved on to other friends, other moms who I could commiserate with. And she moved on with her childless friends. But it still hurts because I don’t know what happened.
Oh Rachel, I am so sorry. It is a terrible thing to go through. We move forward, I’d say, but never really move on. How could we? I am sending much love your way.
I think breakups are inevitable and never easy, but ghosting a friend or lover is the worst. It’s a form of cowardice, fleeing from difficult communication. It doesn’t allow the closure you need after severing the relationship. I’ve had a couple of instances with friends, but I was too stubborn and showed up to tell them that they mattered too much to me for me to allow it to end that way. That could have gone two very different ways, but in both cases, we healed the crack and saved the friendship. My partner is still reeling from being ghosted by a life-long and best friend. It’s been six years and he’s not over it. Ghosting sucks.
I admire that you could do that. I could never feel the same about them.
Yes, it’s hard to deal with someone who unexpectedly leaves. A couple of girlfriends I had when our sons were buddies in high school left after graduation, no more communication. A bizarre feeling. If I like someone, I want to be friends forever. But for some people, it’s only as long as its convenient. Oh well, life goes on.
That’s a fact. Life does go on!
I dearly relate to so much of what you wrote. It’s been almost seven months since I decided to take a long pause from a friendship that dates back to the mid 70s. In early January, I decided this friend’s overly critical and judgmental nature was not serving me. We live in different states, so there is no chance of running into her or seeing mutual friends or acquaintances. I did not want to keep having to justify when she would start to interrogate me over the phone. The final episode concerned a medical issue I am dealing with. I guess you could say I was the “ghoster.” Today was the first time I actually spent more than fleeting moments thinking about what I did. So your column really hit me hard. Part of me wants to apologize, and I do think I will do that, but I have to be clear about my motives for doing so. I believe I don’t want to re-establish our communication since I had been on pins and needles with her aggressiveness for so long. Hope this is not TMI. Thanks, Carol, for giving me some excellent insight. I know I didn’t read your column by accident.
Karen, do you really think you need to apologize? Given that you do not want to continue, I think you’re righ to ask yourself: What outcome would you consider beneficial? So many questions…
Yes, you are right, Carol. I need to be really clear in my own head about what outcome, if any, I would consider beneficial. It’s apparent at this point I don’t have any answers. An apology can’t be tinged with justification from my standpoint.
I would never trust that person again. That’s why it would be difficult for me.
That is a sad situation. Thank you for modeling the thought process that leads to a healthier place.
I wish I thought it were. But I can only do what I do, right?
When you lose a friend, and you cannot understand the reason…one always looks for a fault. Not in them, but in YOU. Which is hard, but it happens. People change…I know dumb answer. But it is true. With your incite and your care of others, I hope the hurt will heal. Beth