I Ended a 17-Year Friendship With A Text

n 2004, I met a girl. Let’s call her Cindy.

She was dynamite. Weird, smart, into theater, super badass. We met in a summer theater program in high school. And she quickly became one of my bestest, favoritest, awesomest-in-the-world friends.

She was way edgier than me (not a high bar, I had the edginess of a ‘nilla wafer). But I can’t begin to describe how much awesome she brought to my life.

But, time passes. Things change. People change. Life happens to people, and they respond in different ways.

I’m not going to go into detail about it, other than we grew into very different people. And over time, I started being less and less a fan of who she had become.

We were still bridesmaids at each other’s weddings. We had brunch, did things occasionally. The friendship had definitely morphed (the ‘rona didn’t help). But one day, during a really good public live call with my coach, I realized that I was tolerating who she had become for the love of who she used to be.

And it wasn’t enough.

Why I’m Proud of Myself

Here’s the thing- this article isn’t so much a “god this girl sucks now.” It’s a “damn, I’m really effing proud of myself.”

She always took the lead in our friendship. That’s how it was from the beginning. But as we grew up, that dynamic became both less acceptable and less healthy.

She wasn’t amazing to me, by the end. “Actively a dick” could be an accurate phrase. And no matter how long I went without seeing her, I could constantly hear her voice, sneering in my head. “Poor people shop there.” “Ew, you wore/got/did that?” Our friendship had become chains in my mind.

The reason I’m really proud of myself is that I’m often passive about these things. I wait for someone else to do the thing so I don’t have to. And honestly, I was pretty sure she was going to end it at some point herself.

But on that call, I decided it was taking too long. I was going to be the one to end the friendship.

It was the first time I’ve taken agency in my life in years.

Why I Sent A Text

I was nervous as all hell to actually friend-breakup. And here’s the thing- the possibility of her taking it in a mature and adult way was, in my opinion, vanishingly small. If I did it in person, she was either going to be a dick or make a scene. Or both.

So, I decided not to deal with that. I went to a friend’s house (my husband was at work), composed an I-swear-I-tried-to-be-nice-about-it text, and held my friend’s hand really hard as I hit Send.

Then I waited.

Four hours later, I got a response. As it turns out, I was right- she did not take it in a mature or adult way. And her response was all the confirmation I needed that I had done the right thing.

Conclusion: Life Now

I ended our friendship with a text because it was the best thing I could do to take care of myself. And the relief that filled me still brings tears to my eyes.

I’m free.

I’m finally, finally free. No sneering in my head. No backhanded comments. No being really embarrassed at restaurants when she’s rude to the staff. The freedom is blinding.

I still dream about her, sometimes. But that’s okay. Because I dream about the person she used to be. And in my dreams, I can hang out with my friend again.