An Open Letter to the Friend Who Walked Away
Updated: Apr 11
I can remember when we met. We were early 20s and at a party. We clicked really well and ended up friends. I was going through a rough time in my marriage, and you were having a tough time of in between in your relationship. We bonded over the struggles. You were instrumental in keeping me alive during my divorce, if for no other reason than you made me eat. For that I will forever be grateful.
We both were struggling to find ourselves, and were very unconfident in it. It made it harder when we had many similarities. I sometimes got fashion ideas from you, because let’s face it, you always knew more there. Something about the whole ordeal always upset you. Girlfriends tend to get ideas from each other but when it came to you, I wasn’t supposed to.
Over the years I figured out that you were dealing with your own insecurities in those days. I’m not sure you ever got over them. The ways we were similar were GREATLY alike, (Several years apart and we made similar parenting choices and drove the same car) and the ways we were different were just as drastic. But the similarities upset you, and as many times as we tried to get past them, you’d end up walking away over them time and time again.
Since I can’t say it to you now, here’s what I’d say if I could.
I wish you could be confident in just how special and unique you are. Even if I wanted to, I could never be you. You have grown into someone that honestly puts most of us to shame, and you should cling to that. I celebrated the ways we were the same, but apparently they bothered you. But I wouldn’t change them. Our voices and thoughts and words were often the same, and that upset you. But I wish you could see that I’ve long since been over trying to be anything for anyone else or not being me after being controlled so long. You’ll know the reference.
So since it has never really been pointed out, here is how greatly we differ.
You live in a big suburban house as a stay at home mom, running a photography business on the side.
I live in a tiny house on a horse farm, as a work at home mom, homeschooling, and drawing in my spare time.
You are a cat person through and through.
I would rather have a dog any day. Cats are only good for barns. 🤷🏻♀️
You refinish furniture and do an exceptional job.
I’m afraid to even start such a project for fear of ruining it.
You iron everything.
I don’t know where my iron is, and feel like that’s why we have dryers.
You are a fashionista who always wants to dress up, even some days to stay home. You wear makeup almost always.
I almost never wear makeup, and live in graphic t-shirts.
You so regularly have your hair done that when you couldn’t get an appointment, you learned to trim it yourself.
I haven’t had a haircut in a year for no other reason than I don’t want the toxic shampoos they use to be put on my hair. I haven’t dyed my hair in YEARS for that same reason.
You are very introverted, although bubbly and outgoing, and rarely let anyone all the way in.
I am an open book, and very rarely keep people out until they hurt me, and even then I often give opportunities for redemption.
We will NEVER be the same. Our faith, similar writing styles, similar talking styles and sometimes similar thought patterns are all that are the same about us. Anything I have ever done similar to you has never been on purpose or to hurt you. And I’m honestly sorry that it ever did.
I also want to point out that any time you’ve ever done this, you’ve been going through something hard personally. I pray that isn’t the case this time. I’m done reaching out, though. Clearly this will never stop being an issue, and I’m done with the charade. But I want you to know that you are an incredible, admirable human being, even though we won’t be friends again. I hope one day you are confident in that.