Breaking Up (with Friends) Is Hard to Do

After a trip across the country to visit an old friend, I was confronted with the reality that she was holding me back. It pushed me to walk away from the friendship for good.

“Don’t say things. What you are stands over you the while, and thunders so that I cannot hear what you say to the contrary.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Social Aims”

This quote is one of my all-time favorites. It’s actually been transmogrified quite significantly since Emerson wrote it in 1875, and you might sooner recognize it in its pared down form: “what you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.” The sentiment is the same, but Emerson brings an undeniable drama.

Regardless of what version you prefer, the key takeaway remains, and I inevitably return to it when I need to distance myself from someone whose actions have had a negative impact on me. This became immensely important at a phase in my life where I realized I was outgrowing certain people, places, and behaviors.

I’ve written before about how a big, full life demands some big, scary risks...and sometimes that risk is merely letting go of someone or something that no longer serves you. That was a huge part of my personal evolution: waking up to the relationships in my life that had me feeling absolutely boggled—why, after spending time with certain loved ones, was I so unhappy? This manifested in both friendships and romantic relationships. In fact, it happened with a person I considered to be one of my absolute best friends. And letting go of her was the first part in what became a full-blown readjustment of the friendships I prioritize, and an early step in cultivating self-awareness.

I landed in Amy’s* new home state on a clear September afternoon. Amy was a friend of nearly two decades, and was due to pick me up at the airport to kick off a week-long visit. I was excited, with only the slightest hesitation in my soul. It was a bit of a lingering hangover from her last visit home to New Jersey, which had deeply frustrated me when I felt used as a chauffeur and crash pad. In hindsight, I see I had reached a point of accumulation; each time she came home, I was just barely over the aggravation of the visit prior, and all I had done in the meantime was bury the feeling as opposed to releasing it. She would max me out emotionally, physically, and financially, expecting me to drive her around, find her weed, and follow her plans, without offering much of anything in return. (*I’m using a fake name.)

After each visit, she would retreat to her new home, while I was stewing in her old one, still not comprehending the dawning realization that we were becoming incompatible, though I was certain something didn’t feel right. But she was skilled at feigning sincerity, and would lean on the distance between us and the passing time to lure me back in, soothing my irritation with random spurts of fabricated gratitude. I can say that it was fabricated because it only lasted as long as the sentence she expressed it in.

Our relationship had been changing over the years—that much I was sure of—but I could not yet see just how taxing it had become. When I touched down across the country that day, still believing in the power of our long-term friendship, I decided to put my fears on the back-burner and have a good time.

I hadn’t met her boyfriend at the time, but she had given nothing but glowing reviews thus far, and they had made the choice to move in together pretty early in their relationship (less than six months in)—so I was caught off guard when, as I climbed into her SUV in the airport pick-up area, the first thing she said was, “so Blake* and I broke up last night.” (*Also a fake name.)

She began to explain what had happened, and as we traveled the 45 minutes from the airport to her home, she told me truths from a relationship that actually frightened me. This was my first exposure to their dynamic, beyond the loving tidbits she had shared prior to my visit, and she unveiled it as toxic and precarious for both parties, including drug use, jealousy, explosive arguments, and deception.

This difficult conversation was my first impactful exposure to the ways we were growing apart. The possibility had scratched at me before, as our differences began to show in how we were spending our time and energy, but this was the moment it became undeniable in the most detrimental ways.

Growing at different times, different paces, and sometimes, in completely different directions, is not the problem. The problem is when that relationship keeps calling you back to a place in yourself that you know is your darkness.

She finished telling me about the volatile dynamic that resulted in their break-up the night before, complete with kicking him out of the apartment, just as we were rolling up to a place to grab some lunch. As we settled into our seats, and I considered all the horrifying details of the last hour, I offered to make a plan.

“What can we do next? Pack up his clothes? Do you want me to be at the apartment when he gets back and you can be elsewhere?” I tossed out a handful of what I believed to be some logical next steps; but her reply nearly broke my neck from whiplash.

“Well I don’t really want to break up with him.”

I remember sitting there in silence, trying to parse the conflicting messages. I pushed back, reminding her of the things she had told me just minutes ago. I reminded her of the unhappiness that she spoke of so recently that the words were still hanging in the air. I asked if she was afraid, and reminded her I was there to help, and we could figure it out together. It didn’t seem like she was in any immediate danger, but the situation was fraught, and reconciliation seemed to be the absolute worst option. But before I could even order my first drink, she had done a total reversal that left me questioning what the next seven days would be like. And holy shit, I was nervous.

That baffling conversation happened in the afternoon. We hopped around to a couple bars from there, and by the time we returned to her apartment in the evening, she warned me before entering: Blake is inside.

HUH?

She had just told me that picture frames were airborne during their argument the night before…and now he’s behind the door I’m about to walk through?

My eyes wide, she assured me they had made nice over text message while we had been out (again…HUH?) and all would be fine. Let me tell you that I was certainly, not, comforted.

And I had good reason.

I have no interest in dragging my former friend by laying out all of what happened that week, because at the heart of the matter, it really comes down to simply growing apart and becoming different people. But the rest of the vacation was something that I shudder to look back on, as she flooded me with contradictions, gaslighting, and twisted justifications, often related to her relationship with Blake, but equally permeated other conversations and topics. As the days unfolded, I became less fearful for her safety, and more concerned for my own.

At that time in my own life, I had just started graduate school, and had moved out of a city that I loved, but felt was enabling some of my worst behaviors. I was slamming the reset button—I knew I needed to make drastic changes and I was at the precipice of a major life shift. What I didn’t know at the time is I would certainly survive it, but some of my friendships would not. This one was the first to go.

At the same time, Amy was looking around at her life, and based on what she told me upon my arrival, she was crystal clear on how harmful Blake was and how the relationship prevented her from growth. But she was not in a place where she was willing to detach herself, regardless of the risk the relationship posed to her well-being. She told me she wanted something different, but I watched her order the same dish off the menu every single day.

It was as if there was a rock in her shoe—she’d jam her foot in, feel the discomfort, maybe even walk fewer steps because of it. But she would not remove the rock, despite the pain it caused her. She feared its absence more than the discomfort of its presence.

Based on what I was seeing of my friend and her actions—actions that did not match what she was saying—I realized that I could not continue to grow in the way that I craved if I allowed this friendship to hold me back. Whenever we spent time together, she would try and coax me back to my old ways, and sometimes, I would comply. We’d act irresponsibly, stay up all night, take big risks. But in truth, it never felt good, and I reached a point where I knew I was betraying myself when I would return to those behaviors.

And during my trip, I was aggressively confronted with the ways my friendship was trying to keep me stuck.

One of my favorite writers, Yung Pueblo, writes in one of his latest newsletters:

“Another challenge during healing is letting go of the old you. As the deep work of release continues, your conditioning will become lighter and lighter. This will cause major shifts in your likes, dislikes, interests, behavior and it will transform what you look for in connections. It is common to feel an inner struggle where you unconsciously try to hang on to your old self, because that is what you know best. There is often an attachment to how you used to be, even if there were aspects of yourself that caused you a lot of tension.”

I was staring down not just my attachment for how I used to be, but how we used to be. It was pivotal to finally see parts of my social circle were subconsciously put and kept in place (by me) in order to allow me to remain the way I had always been. These people wanted me to stay the same, and if I kept them in my life, I was signing off on that. I could slide back into old ways, old behaviors, old habits. And in my life, all that old shit wasn’t serving me anymore. In fact, it was hurting me.

Another hard truth is that, for some people, the worst thing you can do is become their mirror. You start reflecting back to them all the things they are unwilling to admit about themselves, and are often working overtime to avoid. Sometimes they’ll bounce you out of their life just for calling it to their attention. Sometimes they’ll try to talk you out of what you know in your gut to be true.

But if you allow yourself to become deeply acquainted with mindfulness, self-awareness, and accountability, you will be able to trust what your intuition is telling you and you will return to yourself every time. And when it comes down to choosing to let go, you are choosing yourself. Not only that—you’re choosing to expand, because those relationships will always keep you small. And as I’ve said time and time again…staying small is fucking boring.

To return to Yung Pueblo for one more brief moment, he also wrote something on the concept of diving into yourself in order to become fully aware of what you need (or don’t need) in your life:

“One of the biggest challenges during healing is what happens after you start going inwards. Sometimes, there are moments of profound release, where your mind will first feel heavy and tumultuous as emotions that were accumulated from the past come up to the surface so that your mind can be relieved of the weight you once carried. The process of knowing yourself and letting go is not always smooth, sometimes you will feel down for a few days as things that were once consciously or unconsciously suppressed find space to rise to the surface.”

And this brings me back to Ralph Waldo Emerson, and his message of seeing higher value in a person’s actions as opposed to what they are saying. But first, I have to tell you how my vacation ended.

The tumultuous trip was coming to a close, and after one final, sleepless night of turning Amy’s actions over and over in my mind, I knew I had to get the fuck out, and fast. It was not my last night in her state, but I wouldn’t be spending another moment in her bubble. It was as if I had been dunked in an ice bath, the reality pricking every inch of my skin, leaving me unable to ignore the discomfort—I had to tend to it immediately. As soon as the sun came up, I packed my suitcase and told her I was leaving for a hotel. And in that moment, she burst into tears.

Seeing her cry tugged at my heart strings, because this person had been my friend since we were kids. I didn’t want to cause her pain, but in that moment, my own was so alarmingly present that I could not address hers first, as I had done many times before. I could no longer sacrifice my sanity for the sake of her own. And her tears could not drown all that had been done to disrespect me in the days leading up that final moment.

Her actions spoke so loudly that I could not hear what she was saying.

Still, she begged me to see her side of things.

But who she was, stood over her all the while, and thundered so that I could not hear what she was saying to the contrary.

I was only just beginning to get acquainted with self-awareness. It was a tiny seed in my soul that told me I deserved great friends, great love, and a great life, on my terms; a seed that was parched from the prior days spent with someone who was not yet ready to grow, and maybe never would be. I couldn’t stick around any longer to find out.

If she was, or is, happy with her conditions, that’s quite literally none of my business. I made the choice to separate and it’s no longer a factor in my life. And that type of letting go is really fucking hard, but I want my actions to speak with absolute clarity: my expansion, my well-being, and my sanity, will never be sacrificed. Not for old memories, crocodile tears, or one last night of vacation.