No Longer Flattered

At first, I’ll admit, I was almost flattered.

I kept trying to figure out how people who suggested I end certain relationships found their way into an alliance after their friendships with me ended.

What could they possibly have in common?

Then it clicked.

Me. 🙃

One couldn’t accept that I ended a relationship because of his own behavior, so he went looking for another explanation. He reached across a boundary to someone from my past because apparently “she decided she was done with me” wasn’t accepting of life’s circumstances.

The others couldn’t accept that I ended a 25-year friendship because of their behavior either.

So - people who were rejected by the same person decided the person doing the rejecting must be the problem.

Convenient.

For a while I thought, Good grief, am I really this fascinating? Because imagine disliking someone enough to conduct a post-relationship archaeological dig through her life together with people you’ve labeled obsessed. That requires fifty shades of commitment. 💯

But after thinking about it, they actually do have quite a bit in common.

Besides the obvious insecurities and abusive marriages, they were apparently willing to compare notes until they could construct a version of me that made their own behavior easier to live with.

But that version has become easier for me to live with too.

If we’re gonna call me high conflict, I’m gonna own it. The verdict of I can’t handle my emotions has become extremely convenient. And whatever hateful content comes my way I’m bathing in it like CONFETTI. 🎉

If your nosiness has gotten you into this mess, well -curiosity killed the cat. 🐈

If it was your hatred or you’re jealousy of me that got you here- well, accept the VIP accountability seat. 🏆 🏆

So no, I’m not particularly flattered anymore.

Mostly I’m inspired and fascinated by the irony.

Because apparently after 25 years of fake friendship, my personal retirement package included personal property damage, death threats, and harassment resulting in multiple police reports.

That’s not normal peeps.

And maybe that’s the strangest part of all.

You can spend years knowing someone, loving them, celebrating with them, vacationing with them, comforting them, defending them, and calling them family.

Then the relationship ends and suddenly every personality trait gets excavated, reinterpreted, and entered into evidence.

Apparently that’s what we do now.

Personally, I think when someone leaves your life, there’s another option:

You could let them leave.

But like I said, apparently we’re all crabs now. 🦀