I have a 2 year old in my house. The Lion King is on. The circle of life made me misty-eyed before 9am. There’s something unsettling about that.
Facebook has changed so many ways we interact with people; but probably the biggest way it’s changed our interactions is how we end a friendship. I don’t end friendships often. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve went, yeah, we’re done here.
I unfriended someone a couple days ago on Facebook. They didn’t do anything directly to me to draw my ire. But they treated a very good friend of mine poorly. Over the course of years, they systematically poked holes in my friend’s heart; some little punctures, some gaping wounds. An inconsideration here, a lie here, a condescending rebuke there, until my friend was lying on the ground and just kept taking kicks, because circumstances caused her to be trapped there, unable to defend herself. I came across a post in the unfriend’s feed that proved yet again, they had not done the good friend thing to do. And it pissed me off. And it caused Tom to miss a day of work (and family time) unpaid. Which also pissed me off.
Before Facebook, I would’ve thought, yeah, we’re done here, and simply moved on. They never would’ve known I’d lost respect for them. Hell, as far as I know, they might not give a shit if I respect them or not. Who knows?
Buuuttttt we live After Facebook, so I made it “Facebook Official;” I unfriended them.
I could’ve simply ignored it. I could’ve simply put them on “Hide.” I’m not sure why I did it. A flash of anger, the thought, yeah, we’re done here, and with a couple clicks, an official unfriending. I didn’t think, *gasp* youuuuuu biiiiiitch. I didn’t think, oh yeah?! Eff you! Take that!
I. Was. Just. Done.
I felt a flash of sadness, then nothing. Next item on the day’s agenda.
Then today, the unfriend texted, “Why did you unfriend me?” It earned a *blink blinkblink* and I answered as clearly and succinctly as I could. Done. Moved on. Had we meant more to each other, perhaps more dialogue could’ve worked out the kinks. But I guess it wasn’t important enough to either of us. (If you say, it is what it is, I may have to punch you in the throat a little bit. I hate that phrase.)
What bothers me most about this, though, is that it reminded me of a couple years ago when a person I thought I was very good friends with unfriended me. I, like the recent unfriend, texted to ask, “Why?” Only difference is, I added, “What happened? What did I do? If I offended you, at least tell me so I may offer amends.” I never got an answer. I was totally ignored. I hear you, their loss, Dory. But it hurt. It hurt badly. For days.
I guess it comes down to, at least I answered. I don’t want anyone to hurt the way I hurt when I was ignored.
I hope if the unfriend and my paths cross, that we will both be civil. I plan on it anyway.
If I had it to do over, I’d’ve told the unfriend what I thought. But it might have made things even harder on the friend of the unfriend.
Maybe before Facebook, I might have. But I think with my anxiety issues, I would’nt’ve been able to talk to the unfriend about it anyway. Anxiety and confrontation don’t go really well together. It’s kind of hard to talk when you’re hyperventilating and trying not to pass out.
I miss B.F. Before Facebook. And to think there’s a whole generation of kids who don’t know what that’s like. Kah-razy.
What’s my point? I don’t really know. I just needed to get this to stop the spin cycle in my brain.
I don’t want to cause anyone to hurt. I want to be a good friend, and I want to do the right thing. No exceptions.
That’s not entirely true; I’ve definitely had my moments that an ice cold revenge would’ve been tastier than an ice cold beer. But for the most part, I don’t want to cause anyone pain.
So I guess now I just move on and let Karma take over. *shrugs*
We’ll just have to see who’s nursing the bloody butt stitches.
Only time will tell, because Karma don’t talk; She strikes.
I promised myself I’d keep writing my business plan today. I’ve been on Facebook, G+, and Pinterest for the last few hours. I hate myself a little bit.