A Fond Farewell

To my oldest friend,

I did not want to write this letter. I still don’t. To be completely honest, I have tears in my eyes from how difficult this is to type. I know I need to let you go; gently release my hold on trying to maintain a friendship, and allow you to be free. This letter is my way of doing that.

When we last spoke on the phone, I had finally built up the courage to ask you why you had been so distant. As you explained to me what I already knew, you surprised me by saying two things I wasn’t expecting to hear: that being close to me was ‘emotionally expensive,’ and that it had been that way for as long as we’ve been friends. I was instantly transported back to high school. I can’t remember the specifics, but I do remember that I felt like something was ‘off’ for about a month, and you responded with something similar, that being close to me was draining. That was 2008, close to fifteen years ago. That was the lightbulb moment for me. You should never have to feel burdened with being someone’s friend. And I’m deeply sorry that this is how our relationship has always felt.

From the moment I met you, I wanted so badly to be like you. You sat across from me in 2nd grade, and I was so envious of your long, blonde, braid. My fondest memories of childhood were at your house. Slathering butter on French bread after school. Going bowling in prom dresses. Binge watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer late into the night. Shopping at the 5th avenue mall. Jitters. You were there for me in high school when I needed you the most, just like you were there for me in adulthood during my first manic episode. As well as the following one. I don’t know where I would be right now if it wasn’t for you. During my darkest times, you were only a phone call or email away. You were the best friend a person could hope for. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the same for you.

And I see that now. How exhausting it must be to be someone’s lifeline; the only friend to a person who has lost almost everyone else. I can’t imagine how devastating it must be to witness someone you’ve known almost your entire life experience psychosis. To be the person responsible for taking your childhood friend to urgent care to be diagnosed Bipolar. To have to accept a phone call from the LA County Jail. When we spoke on the phone, you used the word ‘traumatizing.’ And as much as it hurt me, I realized that it was true.

I’m sorry. I wish that burden had not fallen on you. I’m absolutely devasted that being my friend has brought you any kind of anguish or pain. But maybe that’s what I realized, and what you realized, too. Friendship shouldn’t be traumatizing. It should be the opposite.

So I‘ve decided to take the weight away. I’m not longer going to reach out or try to catch up. I havent’ decided wether or not I’ll actually send you this, but if I do, I want you to know that this isn’t me cutting you off, or saying we can never be friends. I’m simply giving you what you need: space. I never want you to feel pressure to be in my life. Maybe after a while, you’ll feel differently. And maybe you won’t. Either way, I understand. And for you, and our friendship, I’m so very grateful.

With love,

Marti