I had something interesting happen today – it was very freeing, and I felt that it was important enough to post about here on the ol’ Takedown.  This is going to be a bit of a lengthy one, but I promise if you read it through, you’ll get something out of it.

In 2010, I had the very sad experience of learning that a young woman I had known since junior high had died. She had been in declining health for a number of years, and it finally took her life. I had not spoken to her in many years, and the reason for that became known to me after she had died.

Before I go on, the readers here need to know something – NOTHING I am going to say is meant as a slam, or in a disrespectful manner to this young lady or her memory. We were friends. The facts of our friendship are just that – facts. They don’t lessen or water down the immense amount of affection that I had for her. Any negative meaning, any “offense” caused by my words, frankly, will be a choice on the part of the reader. No, that’s not a disclaimer – it’s called “fair warning.”

Losing her was bad enough. What made it worse was that a short time afterward, I found out from a member of her family that the reason she had not spoken to me was because of a letter I had sent her a few years earlier.

A letter? you’re probably wondering. What letter? Why? Well, let me explain:

I loved that girl, probably to the point of ridiculousness. It would have been obvious to a blind man with a cane that she had no interest in me in anything other than as a big brother, but that didn’t deter me. If I knew where she was, I went and visited. I bought her things. I offered my advice, unwelcome as it no doubt was (or even worse, as OBVIOUS as my sage advice was), on her relationships and what she “needed to do” to fix them. It was incomprehensible to me that she not only was very probably happy where she was, but had no intention of trying to change anything. She lived how she did, and had the right to. But oh no – here came the ol’ Super Doctor, ready with his constant list of compliments, assurances that she could do better, and faith that she WANTED to, if I could JUST explain to her why it was that it was in her best interests to do so.

Yeah. Arrogant, thy name was The Doctor I’ve come to terms with that, I’m ok with it, and I have no problem admitting it.

Over the years, though, different things stuck out to me, which I chose – and that’s the operative word – CHOSE to ignore. Things like the fact that I generally only heard from her when she was in trouble. The fact that when I finally managed to either track her down, or she chose to get a hold of me, the reason why I hadn’t heard anything was because she “couldn’t find my phone number.” (Never mind that my family’s last name was, literally, the ONLY family in the area with that last name, or that she knew other members of my extended family who, like me, had a unique last name) Things like when she had had run-ins with the law and had been incarcerated, she always “found God” and was confident she was “in His plan for her.”  They never rang true, but I ignored them because I was more interested in helping her than I was in being a real friend and being honest enough to confront her about it. (Contrary to popular belief, or what is taught on TV sitcoms – real friends DO confront one another over important issues.)

However, one day I felt what my friends and I call that “Celestial tap on my shoulder,” that more or less said ‘You’re being dishonest and you need to stop.‘ Those issues had been bugging me since I had received a letter after her latest brush with the law, saying basically the same things. It bothered me that, after all the years we had been friends, she still seemed to feel she had to try and “win” my approval or friendship. And so, I sat down and over the course of a number of days, wrote her a letter. I agonized over it – prayed over it – worded and re-worded it to make sure that it said exactly what I wanted to say, exactly how I wanted to say it. Even while I confronted her on the issues of our friendship that bothered me, I still encouraged her and expressed my faith and belief in her. While I explained that God wasn’t a genie, He genuinely DID want a relationship with her, if she chose to take it. I encouraged her in that we were friends and always would be, even while I said that I found it hard to believe that she never could manage to get in touch with me, except when things were bad or she needed something. I was straightforward and spoke as truthfully as I could, as lovingly as I could. I ended it by expressing, again, the immense affection and friendship I felt for her, and the hope that I would hear from her soon. I also left the door open for her to not contact me, explaining that even then, she wouldn’t be my enemy and I’d always be waiting to hear from her again.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. I never heard from her again. I found out after she died (from a member of her family) that that letter had been “hurtful” to her and so she never spoke to me again, even though (as though it made any difference at that point) she had asked about me before she died, and wondered how I was doing.

From that day until today, I have carried a guilt on my shoulders for that letter. Every time I thought I had defeated the guilt, sooner or later that accusing voice would start in again and it would come crashing back. I had hurt her. I had been unkind to her. I probably broke her heart. I betrayed her trust in me as a friend. I hadn’t been a REAL friend.

Just in passing – anyone ELSE notice the pattern in all that? I thought you might.

That changed, today, though. I was feeling particularly consumed with self-pity and posted to that effect on Facebook. It was basically a post of “What do you do when you realize that the reason your friends’ relationships failed was because of you? That no matter how well-intended your desire to help,  that you really just interfered and only messed things up?”

And that’s when it happened. I suddenly recognized that voice. My enemy’s hand was tipped when it changed from “You may have had a part in it” to “It’s YOUR fault. YOU did it.” I spun around, figuratively, in my mind and confronted that Accuser. It was the same Accuser that’s been doing this since time began. I realized what was going on, and I stomped on it – HARD. I shook myself and said “What the HELL are you doing?” I realized that not only was I wasting time and energy in self-pity, but I was being arrogant with a capital A, besides! I mean, really – it was MY fault that her life went the way it did? It made it sound as though I were some god with a puppeteer’s rig, leading her along and making her choices for her.

I immediately erased the post, and sat down to write this blog.

“Ok,” you are probably saying, “So what?”

So this.

All of us, whether we realize it or not, have an influence on other people. That influence can be good, or it can be bad. Sooner or later, though, the people whose lives we touch MUST make their own decisions, and do. Whatever influence you may have had, they ultimately decide to either move on, or stay where they are. YOU are not responsible for their lives. As much as I miss my friend, I’ve come to realize that, ultimately, our friendship wasn’t built on a secure enough foundation to endure honesty such as I had shown. (I can say that because, thank God, I DO have friends with whom I CAN be that honest – and they with me – and our friendship is still secure) I believe it was built on an illusion on both our parts. On my part, the illusion that I would be her “champion,” her “savior,” and would “fix” her life. On her part, perhaps, the illusion that I was way too “nice” a person to ever say exactly what I thought and call her on some of the very obvious disparities in what she had said and done over the years.

Does that mean she never really was my friend? No way. I believe she was as much of a friend to me as she could be, given her life and the situations she was in. Not all friendships are the same, any more than all people are. Does that mean I suddenly hate her and am angry with her? Again, NO WAY. There’s no animosity or anger in this post, or in me.

When I suddenly had the “Aha!” moment, I realized that I had been carrying a sense of false guilt, and doing it willingly, because I wanted to blame myself for her not having contacted me before she died. The more rational view was exactly what I realized today – that whatever I said or didn’t say, she ultimately chose to distance herself. I couldn’t change that.

Do you have that Accuser whispering in your ear, holding you down, hurting you over things you can’t change? You can change something – you can choose to not listen. Whether you go to a friend, a counselor, a family member, or yourself – you CAN choose to put a stop to it. Today.

That’s the REAL lesson in all this. I hope it came across clearly – and I hope it helps.

The Doctor