I’m done. I’m done using “I’m busy” as an excuse for not spending time with people who are important to me. We’ve all heard the stories about why we should cherish the people we are close to because ‘they may be gone tomorrow’. The moment you hear about someone else who lost someone they care about and they share their regret with you, you may think “I should call so and so” but do you? Or do, you get busy and forget? Americans pride themselves on being “busy.” We use it as way of bragging how important we are but really it prevents us from doing what we want to do. Over the course of a few days, I learned one friend had passed away and another was in hospice and she passed a few days later. When the shock was over, I realized that I hadn’t seen my friend in months and now it was too late. I’m wondering who else I haven’t made time for in the past year? Who else will I regret I didn’t see if I got a call tomorrow that they were gone? And for what? I have time to skim through social media at night but not to call a friend? I need to eat, why not invite someone I want to spend time with? At the end of my life, will I be proud of how clean my house is or that I told someone how important they are to me and how they have impacted my life? I didn’t get the chance to tell my friend how she is the voice of my conscience. When I have an ethical dilemma, I ask myself “what would Lindsey tell me?” She taught me so much about the world of politics and kept me out of trouble more times than I care to admit. It meant so much to me that she would text me every year when I was at opening day of baseball season or when the Dodgers played one of her favorite baseball teams. I hope she knew how I felt. I don’t want to only keep up with my dearest friends by reading their posts on Facebook. I want to know how they are doing, not just what their social media profile says. I want to hear the excitement in my friend’s voice when he shares the good things happening in his or her life or be there for my friend when she needs a shoulder to cry on or a hug. I want my friendships to be about quality, not quantity. It’s about making time for what’s important, the people I care about.
Please share your story with us at mystory@50fabulousandfinallyfree.com
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My grandfather was a tiny man, not even 5 feet tall, but in my mind he is a giant. Always kind to strangers, animals and small children. He often made me think of Santa Claus with his wispy gray hair and round belly, generally with a smile on his ruddy cheeked face, he was my hero. My grandmother used to call us “two peas in a pod” because throughout my childhood, we were the best of friends. His nickname for me, “Buddy” came from the fact that we used to describe ourselves as Best Buddies. Whether it was hiking, fishing or just exploring the outdoors, the summers of my youth were never long enough. As much as I loved school, it always came too soon. When I graduated and no longer had summer as a vacation, I never stopped spending every spare vacation day visiting my best buddy, still hiking and exploring albeit a little less as he aged.
Being as close as we were, when my relationship became “serious” my buddy was the first person I wanted to tell. I had spent several months telling my grandfather about this amazing guy and how nicely he treated me and how crazy I was about him. When my boyfriend finally found the time to make the trip to meet my family (red flag that I didn’t notice at all – it took him over 4 months to agree to meet them!) I was in love and wanted my family to love him too. My partner said all of the right things and complimented me in every way. My buddy begrudgingly gave his approval. My boyfriend had been arrogant about how “parents always love me” and took for granted that he would receive my grandfather’s approval, therefore it wasn’t something he valued very much. During my weekly calls with my grandpa, he would usually make an excuse not to talk or simply leave to run errands rather than be “bored” by my grandpa’s conversations. The one exception was whenever there had been a birthday or holiday, as the years went on, he would always take credit for gifts that I had given to my grandfather, either in person or on the phone. “How did you like that saw I sent you?” he would ask as he answered the phone and then quickly passed it to me after having his ego sufficiently stroked by my grandfather’s gratitude. I remember thinking it was petty of me to feel slighted, after all, we were a team and any gifts were from both of us. It wasn’t until later that I started to see the darker side of my husband and realized that it would shock and upset my grandfather if he learned the truth. His favorite “son” whom he saw as a worthy man for his only granddaughter, was perfect in his eyes.
Towards the end of his life, my buddy fell victim to alzheimers and dementia which made it unlikely that if I told him about my situation, he would even understand or be able to help. His last two years were spent with months of darkness in his mind, interspersed with days of sunny clarity. It is no coincidence that it was during this same period that my husband’s verbal and physical abuse reached new heights. I still talked to my grandfather every week, like always, but I wasn’t going to destroy one of those rare days of clarity by telling him I was scared and being hurt. I vividly remember the last phone conversation I had with him telling me to make sure and thank my husband for our early Christmas gift, the gift I had spent months picking out and saving for. It was the last time I spoke to my grandfather.
Please share your story with us at mystory@50fabulousandfinallyfree.com
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When you’re married to an abusive partner, whether that abuse is physical, mental, emotional or all 3, the first order of the day is to hide that fact from everyone. You become very adept at disguising your real feelings and emotions when in social settings. During the course of this blog, many friends have reached out to me to express their sadness that I never felt comfortable talking to them while struggling within my marriage. It brings me sadness to think that these kind people feel guilty in some way for not being able to help me.
The truth is that when you’re married to a narcissist and your daily life consists of being belittled and manipulated, you literally live a double life. You become the friend who always wants to help others, you redirect conversations towards them and are always available as a “shoulder to cry on” for your friends. In this way, you’re able to form relationships and function socially. Particularly when you have kids, this is a vital piece of the puzzle that is your facade.
One of the things that I grapple with, even now, 5 years out of my relationship – is the shame. I have always considered myself to be intelligent, and a strong person. If I am those things, how could I have let myself become trapped in my marriage? How could I have children with this person? The guilt and shame are almost a physical weight when you’re in the relationship, and are part of why it is so hard to break free and leave.
It’s a double edged sword, when you’ve built a fake picture of yourself to friends and even family – it’s very hard to admit how bad things are and to ask for help and support as you escape the bad relationship. Part of our intent in writing this blog is for other people who are in these kinds of relationships to realize they aren’t alone and that it’s ok to leave. Once I broke the chains of my silence, I was very fortunate to have a small group of close friends who were always there to help me. To this day, I don’t know what I would have done without them. Don’t be afraid to reach out to friends – you’ll be surprised to find how supportive and understanding most people are. You need your friends now, more than ever!
Please share your story with us at mystory@50fabulousandfinallyfree.com
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