A friend of mine, a dear friend I care a lot about, got dumped last night. Yes, literally dumped. Dumped the way you might flick off a spent butt into the gutter. You get the picture.
Yeah, she’ll need time to recover. Months. We’ll see about doing some shopping this weekend. There are a few sales on. And, I’m going to try to get her involved in a project I’m planning. She could use the distraction. I think she’s also going to try to write and do some exploring in SL. That should also be good.
I know why people who care deeply about you say they will never do something like that to you. It’s easily dismissed as obvious, “Of course you won’t, I know that!”. But they feel they have to say it, and I think I know why they do.
I’ve consoled her last night and this morning. I’ve obviously drawn on how I coped with the closest thing I’ve experienced in SL, which is when I lost my best friend Purdie. And despite her being back in my life once a week now, I know it will likely never be the same. What we had is now gone. It’s lost.
It’s not something to cry about. It just is.
My relationship with my Purdie wasn’t a romantic one, but in many ways even richer than a romantic relationship might be. We said similar things to each other too. That we loved each other. That we wouldn’t hurt each other. That we’d always have each other’s back, no matter what. That nothing would ever come between us. She went as far as to declare it on one of her Picks… it’s still there under “Becky”:
My very best friend…….that’s all there is to say really. An amazing woman……the wind beneath my wings. The reason I stay in SL…….no matter what.”
It’s not as if she was lying when she said it. She meant it 100%. She felt it as much as I did. But when she left, she left a hole in my life that even today hasn’t fully closed. It’s not even like she did it to me. I know I played my part in fucking things up. This isn’t a woe-is-me-what-a-blameless-victim story. I’m still hurt though.
I don’t let on as much as I could, but there isn’t a day I don’t think of her. It was only a few weeks ago that I was talking with others about how things broke apart, and that old reaction – tears in your eyes as you recede into your melancholy – swept over me like a blanket.
Everyone grieves differently. One thing for sure is that it takes time and a hell of a lot of effort.
You eventually just have to accept things as they are and move on, it’s the only way. Over time, you meet new people, and your wounds start to heal up. Every now and then you brush up against something that tugs at the scab and the wound opens up again. If you really cared about that other person, then there will always be a part of you that hurts when you think on what was lost, even when all you have left is the invisible scar.
My friend feels ashamed for feeling so low. She feels embarrassed for caring about someone who doesn’t feel the same. Don’t, I said, don’t feel ashamed for wishing things were different. They ran away, you didn’t. Feel happy that you have that capacity to love someone, even when they don’t love you back.