On average, I read that people have four best friends; I have only ever had one. To be honest, I am not sure I will ever have another best friend. While I believe ‘lovers’ can be replaced in this lifetime, I am less optimistic that the same applies to best friends. I had a best friend, whom I was attached to for the early part of my twenties until I ‘lost’ them. Unlike romantic relationships, where we spend a chunk of the beginning contemplating the end in fear even before we have taken the first step, friendships are quite the opposite. We find it easier to hit it off because the reality is we seldom anticipate the possibility of friendships ending.
For the past few years, I have become more guarded when it comes to building friendships because my focus lies on navigating my way back to the connections that already exist. A lot about adult friendships consists of understanding whether your friendship is a priority for both parties and making space for each other to be heard and seen. This sometimes means starting from ground zero to figure out if dynamics have changed and how to adapt accordingly. But there are some friendships where we cannot move forward nor turn back the clock.
I believe that when we grow up, we either flourish deeper into ourselves or experience (temporary) dissonance from who we are innately ‘supposed’ to be. The same applies to friendships: our experiences either bring us closer together, or we embark on different journeys altogether. The scary thing about the latter is nobody can tell you if this will happen to you or when it will happen. And so the story goes, I had a best friend until I ‘lost’ them. It’s not that something bad happened; we just realised we saw the world differently. In short, we grew apart. So, when this happens, how do you pave the path for yourself to move forward?
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What I do know is that breaking up with a best friend is comparable to breaking up with a romantic partner; dare I say, it can be worse. The longer you have known each other, the more memories, and experiences you have accumulated together, especially if you regard those as some of the best years of your life, the harder it can be to let go.
If I am being honest, I had a feeling my friendship was coming to an end before the official breakup message came in. The thing that separates best friends from friends is that you learn to know each other more than you know yourself. You learn to read the lines and take note of each other’s cues—in every text, verbal communication, and body language, including the silence. Between the two of you, there is some sort of higher power involved, meaning the both of you develop some sort of telepathy, a wavelength unique only to you. So, when the message dropped, I knew that was it.
When the breakup happens, what feels like letting go can manifest itself into your loss or in some way your fault. It is easier to accept that two people ‘fell out of love’ than it is to acknowledge that two people have simply grown apart. To me, the idea of growing apart can be so ambiguous at times. Depending on who called the shot and how the communication is delivered (if any), you are left with more questions than answers. You question where it all went wrong and if there is anything that can be done to reverse the situation. This happens until you tire yourself out. You realise not all questions have an answer; there is no definite point or event that can explain the ultimate split. It is what it is, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.
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Since the message came in two years ago, I have stopped myself countless times from reaching out. The last thing I want to feel is like a toxic ex knocking on the door of their past lover who has already moved on because I, too, have my pride/ego and boundaries to protect. And, while I want to say I have moved on, deep down I owe it to myself to honour the emotions that come with the realisation that heartbreak never quite leaves you. When I thought I was over it, it comes and goes, and sometimes it can feel like you're experiencing heartbreak all over again. The trigger can be a passing thought, or in my more recent experience, it can hit sharp like a paper-cut knife causing the wound to spill open again. And so, you nurse your wound and do it all over again until one day we hope it hurts a little less.
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The reality about growing up is more often than not you will find yourself craving the company of those who know you best. For me, that was my best friend and sometimes it still is…
I didn’t lose my best friend; it was time to say goodbye, to let go. In the process of letting go, I learned that much of what I am experiencing is learning to create space and befriend the emotion of grief. And, the funny thing about grief is that grief does not equate to death. But I was told that grief is simply love with nowhere to go.
And so, I am reminded of one of my favourite quotes:
In this case, “[Someone]” and that feeling is irreplaceable.
- :)