Sometimes All You Can Do Is Release What was

Being left out is less painful if you can move on.

I’ll be the first to admit it: I’m not moving on gracefully. I’m not moving on. Period. I thought I had. I did. I’ve been around long enough to have had friendships end.

It’s painful to be dumped and ghosted, and Unfriended, but after two years, I was sure I was over it.

But this is different. I say is because I’m still suffering from the backlash. I’ve gotten used to this friend not being a part of my life, but I can’t deal with being socially isolated from the trio I was a part of.

And I have been. The weight of it grows heavier each time I see them together.

I’ve been rejected not once, but twice.

You see three is an uneven number, so when a trio splits, it doesn’t split evenly. Someone is left out.

And that’s me.

It’s not like I don’t have other friends or I’m alone all the time. I see my family and have more zoom calls than I can keep track of. I’ve been writing and still have my regular full-time job.

But when I see Ann hanging out with Kate, it’s like she’s dumping me all over again. I get pissed, jealous, and downright angry. And really hurt.

I don’t like feeling this way, and it blindsides me.

I haven’t moved on.

So what’s my problem? Why can’t I accept this?

History is Repeating Itself.

The rejection I suffered as a child is still an open wound. I didn’t understand it until now. Why else would I have such a visceral reaction when I see them together?

It makes me feel like the geek that the other kids taunted and shunned. It was in another era over 50 years ago, but recently it feels like yesterday.

I’m giving this situation more time and attention than I should. It’s like breaking up with an old lover. I mean, really leaving it all behind. Then you see them with someone else, and you realize you haven’t left it behind. And you’re back to day one of that traumatic break-up.

My relationships have been complicated. The people who I trusted the most and should have been closest to weren’t there for me in the ways I needed. It goes back to my childhood.

I wasn’t close to either of my parents. My ex-husband neglected my son and me. And cheated. I was then a single mom, and as the story usually goes, my entire life revolved around my kid. Until one day, at age 14, his hormones kicked in, and he decided he wanted to live with his father.

And this happened the same week as 9–11.

I’ve had enough rejection to last me two lifetimes.

Ann is in a hard place. Yes, we’re still friends, and we’ve hung out since the “break up.” She’s told me, “I’m your friend, but I’m hers, too. We’re just not friends together anymore. And I’ve told her she should talk to you. You were such good friends.”

All true.

But since COVID, Ann has said no to my invitations, and most of our contact has been by phone. That’s her time with me. I then see her with Kate going for walks, grilling outside.

I’m odd man, or woman, out.

Condominium life is not for the faint of heart.

It holds many challenges and having a friend is essential.

The people living physically close to you are not close to you in any way except for their address. But at this point, I’m isolated.

But because we’re close, I often see Kate. We pass with a pleasant hello, and all is fine. Then I see her and Ann together, and the walls come down.

The first time we met, Ann said, “I’m so glad you’re not crazy. You never know who you’re going to get for a neighbor.”

Shortly afterward, I met Kate. We hit it off as well. So much so that she was a part of my everyday life. The three of us shared Saturday evenings, dinners, birthdays, and even some New Year’s for eight years.

I’m sure I did or said something I shouldn’t have, probably several times. But I don’t know what those things are because Kate stopped talking to me. Twice I asked her to come over and talk about it.

Twice she said no.

And to her last text, she added, “See you down the road.”

The road has proven to be endless.

And I’m standing in the middle watching the two of them walk away, powerless to stop them.

What should I do?

If we could talk, at least there’d be some closure. But after two years I know that’s not going to happen.

I need a change.

Here I sit, considering if I should move, so I don’t see them. A new location might help me put this behind me once and for all. It could also put me closer to the friends I do have, the ones I’m always driving to see. I’ve been looking at places for years, just to look, so it’s been on my mind.

Time doesn’t seem to be healing the wound, and I’m not getting any younger.

I have no solution. I so want to see them together and forget it.

Ann is so close, yet so far.

How do I move on?

Release is the answer. Release what no longer is. But it’s not happening.

Moving to a new location is drastic, and it might not solve the problem.

Because no matter where you go, there you are. Hopefully, with time, this too will heal.