I dreamt about Lisa. Not my sister Lisa, but my Ghosting Friend Lisa. Well and truly ghosted!
If you have been ghosted by a friend - someone you thought was your best friend - you'll know it's unlike any other friendship 'break up'.
I have had other friendships end, some of them drifted away (particularly in my teens and 20's), and then some seemed to change dramatically and in ways that suggested there was nothing I could have done to 'save' the relationship (in my 30's).
As we age, our values may shift - I had a fantastically funny, intelligent and incredibly filthy minded friend called Kathy from the time I was around 20 to the age of 33 or 34.
She was from a wealthy family which she pointed out to me a few times - asking how it felt to see she had been given 'everything' and I had 'nothing'. I was glad that she had a life where trying to support a very loving but alcoholic mum wasn't something she had to worry about. Her mum was 'nice' but sort of cold, and the relationship with her father and brother sounded stressful. Poverty sucks, but the warmth of a loving mum goes a long way.
Kathy decided to embrace her conservative roots once she was in a relationship with the 'right' man (wealthy, attractive, had a house, played the guitar). Her mother purchased her a house. Her job paid well. Her partner charged her hardly any 'rent'. Suddenly being friends with someone 'poor' didn't work so well for her.
She resented having to consider doing inexpensive things with me. This was really mind boggling for me at the time - I think I was about 33 and recovering from a terrible break down the like of which I've never had to endure since. Kathy found it very irksome that I hesitated over a $95 door charge to some dance event for New Year's eve (I was earning $15 per hour I believe, this was 20 years ago).
The reason I'm going on about this one is that it illustrates why some of our friendships will eventually die, and how one of us might be more prone to try and keep it alive. I was doing all I could to keep it alive, but the gloss had long since worn off for her. She was re-inventing herself and I was not part of that new invention. It was incredibly painful and I still think of her now and then - and for a long time I was so angry. I feel like that anger has subsided and I can be thankful that she ended it.
She was very cruel to me at times but I took it like a little bitch because I confused self-sacrifice for Love.
So there's a thought: don't confuse self-sacrifice for love. It isn't seen as love, but as weakness. Kathy would've been shoving the stick into Jesus side if she'd been there!
This leads me to Lisa. Lisa Margaret. We were friends since we were eight. She was the skinniest, cutest, big eyed girl you ever saw. She didn't look loved. She looked like she was starving. When I visited her house I understood why. They ate the smallest meals I had ever seen.
I would set the table and always forget that they were all left-handed, so when we ate they simultaneously picked up and swapped the utensils. Norman, her father, was very softly spoken and I never saw him pick her up, never saw him kiss her or tell her he loved her. Anne, the mother, was tiny, nervous, fraying at the edges and constantly moving. She also didn't show any signs of affection to any of her children. I found it really unsettling. I was shocked that her parents didn't come in to kiss her and say goodnight. When I asked about it she looked puzzled, as if I was odd.
Her siblings were sarcastic and a little bit scary. Julie was big eyed and blonde, six years older than us. Nigel was loud and obnoxious, smiling like a pale wolf, two years older than us. I remember there were no books and nothing to draw with, but there was a piano and Lisa could sing. She sang beautifully. The piano wasn't really played often, it sat in the sleepout and longed for life.
By the time I was 21 Lisa got married and then slipped away from my life. She was angry that I was worried about her husband and how he treated her. She shut me out and wouldn't engage. I let go as gracefully as possible, but it was awful. I was still in 'sacrifical' and 'unconditional love' mode. I didn't understand that even platonic relationships need certain conditions to thrive, that if one person is lying and shutting the other one out then it's no longer optimal!
I got on with life. I had plenty of friends, I was developing a binge-drinking habit from the time I was 23 and was surrounded by people with addictions, eating disorders, mental problems and ambitions. What a great and awful time.
At 25 I nearly died (Civic Theatre: Pelvis Fractured and Head Injury!) and at 26 I put an add in the Women's Weekly 'Looking for Lisa' with a photo of Lisa, me and her husband Dean.
Within weeks I got a call! It was so good to hear from her. My love bloomed, any thoughts of the hurt I experienced vanished. She was okay! Her husband used to strangle her till she passed out, so she had moved cities to side-step death.
She didn't apologise to me for abandoning our friendship. I didn't point out that perhaps my concerns had been valid. We just got back on with it, and I was high on my love for her. I was also still recovering from a head injury and the rose-tinted glasses were firmly in place.
At some point she drifted away from me again, and this time I can't even remember what led to it. It wasn't so painful because I had Kathy and Sarah in my life, two friendships that were very intense.
Was it her that reached out to me the next time? I don't know. My Aunty Sandy had died and then somehow Lisa was back in my life a few years later. She stopped smoking and I was so thankful. I wanted to be friends who grew old together.
My big-eyed girl, sister of my heart and soul. I think I was 35 when she really re-entered my life properly, and again, it was absolutely lovely. She is a magical person. She is magical, and of course she is complicated. She doesn't like confrontation. She smiles even when people annoy and scare her. She is like the calm in the eye of a storm. She loved difficult men and a lot of wine. She loved to buy things and she wanted security.
Dear Lisa,
I dreamt that someone came to the house and we had a small moat like gap all around it. The car parked in front of the house threw small packages towards the house, little brown paper parcels. Most of them were going into this narrow, deep moat gap.
I went outside and yelled "hey, don't throw the parcels!" and the door opened and you got out. You smiled at me. It was your no-teeth knowing smile, the one you wear no matter what.
I ran towards you and was crying uncontrollably. I tried to speak but couldn't. You leaned on the open car door and held out your other arm and I staggered into you, hugging tightly. The sobs were wrenching. I knew you loved me, but I also knew you didn't get it.
You never loved me like I loved you. People have different attachments styles and learn to love in different ways.
I talked with my counsellor about this love today, and she said "You do have a huge amount of love to give, and not everyone does". I find that really hard to understand, but I have tried to.
You seemed so loving, but you were always preparing a back door, a back up, a way out or through. I saw it happen with others but didn't think you would do it to me because I never did anything to hurt you.
The only thing you could think of when we did try to communicate (friends again on FB, Limited Time Only!) was that I talked too much (I do) and I got upset because you voted for Johnkey the Donkey in 2011 (I aplogised for being so dramatic and ridiculous more than three times). We know you didn't stop being my friend because I wasn't keen on a National led government.
When I had the premonition that you wouldn't contact me until after John had died I was also told that you were struggling with health issues. The nature of these health issues is your business. Spirit told me not to bring it up, that you would deny it.
I wondered if you were sick and that the dream was you coming to say goodbye. I know that a grown up Julie Robson was in the car (weird!) and Shereen, and I think Julie (your sister) was in the car too.
You said "I saved the front seat for you" in such a kind and eager way that I cried even more. Imagine saving a seat for someone you ghosted from your life, someone who told you that abandonment was the worst thing anyone could do. Even so, I knew I would. I knew I was going to get in that seat and love you for just a bit longer if you would let me.
In the words of Fleetwood Mac, I'll let this passage from 'Silver Springs' say it. A bit creepy? Probably.
"Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me
I'll follow you down
And I do love you.
I know why you ghosted me Lisa, and I know it's nothing that is wrong with me. I get that we all love in varied ways, and for you, being loved by me felt too much. You lied to me. You threw me away, but I will always remember all the laughter and love we had.
And so now there is room. Room to love the few good friends I have now. To pour my heart into those who can take it.
Farewell ghosties!
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