How To Lose a Friend in 10 Months
**Edited below
As promised, more Heavy and Really Sort Of Morose Blogging. Don't say I didn't warn you. If morose bores you, scroll back a post and reflect upon roller-skating, Steve Zissou, David Hasselhoff, and the retirement of the It's Not Easy Being Green Dancers...
I read a lot of books and magazines and websites about parenting and motherhood while I was pregnant with WonderBaby. I read about breastfeeding and sleep schedules and sleep arrangements and Attachment Parenting and baby whispering and swaddling and SIDS and PPD and all variety of issues and ideas related to Having a Baby. I learned a lot, and nothing at all. End of the day, even with all of the relevant information swirling around in my head, I was on my own. The books and magazines and websites gave me tools, but they didn't tell me how to distinguish between the tools (most of which, as we all know, have competing functions), or how to choose which tools to use. I was on my own.
I expected this. Even as I studied, frenetically and, ultimately, fruitlessly, about how to cope with sleepless nights and endless feedings and the constant anxiety, I knew that nothing could prepare me for the challenge that I would face on my own, and for being alone (even with my phenomenally supportive husband) in that experience. I knew that I would feel isolated.
What I didn't know was how isolated I would feel. And I didn't know that new motherhood would bring new forms of isolation. I didn't know that it would isolate me from old friends. I didn't know that it would cause me to lose friendships.
I had read about this, of course, losing friends after becoming a mother. I think that it's an editorial rule at all pregnancy and parenting magazines that a story about losing friends as a consequence of new motherhood must appear at least once every three issues. I'd seen the articles. I'd seen the discussions at parenting websites. I just didn't think that the issue applied to me.
My friends were good friends. Life friends. The people that I spent time with and shared myself with were - are - people that I enjoy and trust and really, really like. There aren't a lot of them. Acquaintances come and go, and I assumed that I would have a lot less contact with acquaintances once the mother ship landed. But my friends, I assumed, would understand that I would no longer be able to dash out for coffee or spend long, lazy evenings drinking wine and chatting. Not for a while, anyway.
So I was gobsmacked to read, in a recent e-mail from someone with whom I have been very close friends for over a decade, that I had been neglecting the friendship and that, accordingly, she viewed the friendship as dead. We had been exchanging e-mails and occasional phone calls, but it wasn't, in her view, enough. So that was it. It was over. "I've already mourned the loss," she said, "don't e-mail me back."
There's much that could be said about this, about the shock and hurt that accompanies the sudden and unexpected death of a friendship. About how and why new motherhood - parenthood - might cause such a death. How new motherhood affects one's ability to maintain normal levels of social contact. About how I thought that I was doing pretty well, making sure that I stayed in touch, making sure that I explained why it was so difficult to get out of the house anytime other than weekday afternoons (weekends being reserved, largely, for making up lost time with a very busy Husband). There's much that I would like to say about this, because I know that she'll read it and I want her to hear it. But it wouldn't make much of a difference, because, end of the day, she did not end the friendship because my ability to socialize became impaired by new motherhood.
She ended the friendship because I blog.
Not because I have blogged about her or about the friendship. Not because I have violated confidences or said inappropriate things. This friendship was not dooced. What happened was this: she ended the friendship because, despite the constraints that new motherhood imposes upon my time and energies - constraints that limit the time that I spend socializing - I find time and energy to blog.
You make time, she said, for what matters.
True enough. I do make time for blogging. But I make time in 5 or 10 or, maybe, if I'm very, very lucky, 20 minute increments. I blog late at night, or first thing in the morning. Sometimes, I do it with WonderBaby latched to the boob. Often, I am unwashed and in pajamas, munching on an already-partially-teethed teething biscuit. (I know. I have just shattered the widely-shared romantic vision of HBM seated, with her laptop, at a tidy secretaire in an oak-panelled library, clad in stylish loungewear and sipping tea from a china cup). It is not, in other words, time that would otherwise be spent maintaining real life social networks. If any relationship takes a hit from the blogging, it is my marriage: many an evening, after WonderBaby is abed, the Husband gets assigned dinner duty while I finish a post. And so far as I know, Husband is not planning on leaving me because blogging matters more than helping him make dinner. (Um, Husband... right?)
But 'making time' is not really the issue here, either. I'm pretty sure that my old friend wouldn't begrudge me time spent writing, if writing was - and it certainly is this, as she well knows - a sanity-saver. The issue is that I am writing in what amounts to a public forum. I am not only writing, I am communicating. I am sharing my secrets, confiding my fears, telling my stories - to the Internet. To blog-friends. Secrets and fears and stories that I otherwise would be - should be - confiding to real-life friends. To her.
I get this. Sort of. Which is to say, I would get this if I had been the sort of friend who regularly confided secrets and fears. But I wasn't. Oh, I would, certainly, regularly catch good friends up on what was going on in my life, things that were bugging me, that kind of thing. But I've never been the sort of friend who easily shares her anxieties and fears and griefs. Hell, I'm not really that sort of wife: the Husband knows that the surest sign that I'm upset about something is if I stop talking. The more bothered I am by something, the less likely I am to talk about it.
Stop the presses: I do not like to 'share.'
To be more clear, I do not like to talk about things that bother me or hurt me or grieve me or move me beyond my comfort zone. I do not like hearing the sound of my own voice drone on about something that pains me. It's like fingernails down a blackboard. And I do not like to cry - hurt cry, pain cry - with other people. I do not like being held by anyone - other than my mother, my father or my husband - while I cry. I hate it. It unnerves me. Makes me feel exposed.
I don't know why this is. There's probably a good long post about why I am emotionally reserved. My psychiatrist thought that it was cause for concern: someone who hates talking about her worries and fears is, she said, going to struggle more desperately with the worries and fears that new motherhood can bring. She was right. But I still never talked about it.
I hate talking about 'it' - about fear or pain or sadness. When my nephew was diagnosed with a terminal illness, I withdrew from everybody but my husband. When we had to go through genetic testing and counselling to address the very likely possibility that I carried the same gene that will kill my nephew - the gene that I would almost certainly pass on any son I might bear, that would certainly kill any son that inherited it from me - I clammed up entirely. Didn't speak of it, unless pressed to. Because I couldn't bear to.
And this - this emotional reservedness, this clamming up - has never been more true for me than it has been during this first half-year of motherhood. It has been hard. Real hard. And I have not wanted to talk about how hard it is. Nor have I wanted to talk about how those challenges, those sometimes painful challenges, are well-steeped in joy. Motherhood has not only challenged me, it has pained me and confused me and amazed me and filled me with such joy that I sometimes cannot breath. And I have found it hard to talk about this, because the sound of my own voice seems to take the feelings away from me, make them not my own, disassociate them from me. It breaks the intimacy of my own experience of those feelings, it removes them from me in a way that is, to me, strange-making.
But writing doesn't do that. Writing about my fears and anxieties and sadnesses and joys - some of them, anyway - brings me closer to those feelings. Somehow, seeing them on the page makes them real in a way that is not strange-making. I don't know why that is.
And sharing those feelings, through writing, with family and friends and other parents, makes them even more real and accessible. It brings them alive for me, to share them in this way, to know that others are reading and nodding their heads or shaking their heads or engaging in any way with those ideas, those feelings. I don't share all of those feelings, and I don't share many details when the feelings are rooted in very personal stories. I remain circumspect on many fronts. But I am saying more - much, much more - out loud, in writing, than I ever have using my own voice.
It would not be the same, exactly, if I reserved all of these stories for utterance in my own voice, in the privacy of a friend's living room, or the intimacy of a coffee-shop huddle. I don't know why. I do know, however, that this is why I blog. This, and the desire to find community with other parents, other people who are going through the same, or similar, experiences as I am, and who are grappling with the same, or similar, fears and anxieties and joys that I am. Who find shit - real shit, in a diaper - funny. Gross, and frustrating, but also fascinating, and funny. Who understand that one can feel profound anxiety and frustration and joy all at once. Who understand that these experiences are sometimes difficult to talk about.
I'm not saying that I can only share myself through writing. I'd be in real trouble if that were true. I would not be able to sustain relationships if that were true. And, so far, I have been able to sustain relationships, while I have struggled through the challenges of new motherhood and while I have sought solace and release in writing. I think, actually, that writing openly has done much to enrich and enliven my relationships. I'm sharing so much more of myself with friends and family, near and far. Getting the shit that bugs me or causes me stress out of my head and onto the page leaves more room for talking about things that matter: I have more space in my mind and heart for chattering about the immense joy that WonderBaby brings once I've gotten the kickin' my ass kickin' my ass kickin' my ass complaints out of the way. And it has reignited my love of storytelling, and my desire to tell stories, stories and more stories. With my keyboard and with my voice.
But this friend does not want to hear them, not now. Not under these circumstances. She does not, she said, want to be "a window-licker," reading about my life alongside other readers. Reading, rather than participating.
I can understand that feeling, and I would be fully sympathetic, and apologetic, if I had shut the doors on her, or on anybody in my life. But I haven't; I really, really haven't. The doors that she begrudges me were never fully open, or were only ever opened after some well-intentioned, loving prying. What's changed is, a new set of doors have been opened, doors that I feel comfortable opening, doors that I enjoy opening. And they open, it seems, onto a public square, rather than a private, exclusive courtyard.
I can't change that. I don't want to change that. I am very, very sorry that this makes my friend unhappy. I didn't want the friendship to end; any perceived neglect was unintentional, the result of the circumstances of a new, strange life, a life that is no longer fully my own. But that friendship could only live in these new circumstances under the terms of these new circumstances. Circumstances that put new loves - WonderBaby - first. Circumstances that draw me toward new friends, friends that share and understand these circumstances. Circumstances that have drawn me out into the world in a different way. Circumstances that have changed me, and my stories.
I didn't want those circumstances - as if a baby, a new life, a new love, the greatest love, is only a circumstance - to undermine our friendship. I didn't expect them too. I'm sorry that they did. But I am not sorry for those circumstances. I can't be; I won't be.
Am I wrong? Have I violated the terms of a friendship? Is it unfair to expect to old friends to adapt as my life changes? Do the changes that parenthood brings necessarily sound the death knell for pre-parental relationships? (And - I have to ask this, I'm sorry - is this a girl thing?) Is blogging - blogging baby, or blogging anything - bad for real-world friendships? Must it be?
I read a lot of books and magazines and websites about parenting and motherhood while I was pregnant with WonderBaby. I read about breastfeeding and sleep schedules and sleep arrangements and Attachment Parenting and baby whispering and swaddling and SIDS and PPD and all variety of issues and ideas related to Having a Baby. I learned a lot, and nothing at all. End of the day, even with all of the relevant information swirling around in my head, I was on my own. The books and magazines and websites gave me tools, but they didn't tell me how to distinguish between the tools (most of which, as we all know, have competing functions), or how to choose which tools to use. I was on my own.
I expected this. Even as I studied, frenetically and, ultimately, fruitlessly, about how to cope with sleepless nights and endless feedings and the constant anxiety, I knew that nothing could prepare me for the challenge that I would face on my own, and for being alone (even with my phenomenally supportive husband) in that experience. I knew that I would feel isolated.
What I didn't know was how isolated I would feel. And I didn't know that new motherhood would bring new forms of isolation. I didn't know that it would isolate me from old friends. I didn't know that it would cause me to lose friendships.
I had read about this, of course, losing friends after becoming a mother. I think that it's an editorial rule at all pregnancy and parenting magazines that a story about losing friends as a consequence of new motherhood must appear at least once every three issues. I'd seen the articles. I'd seen the discussions at parenting websites. I just didn't think that the issue applied to me.
My friends were good friends. Life friends. The people that I spent time with and shared myself with were - are - people that I enjoy and trust and really, really like. There aren't a lot of them. Acquaintances come and go, and I assumed that I would have a lot less contact with acquaintances once the mother ship landed. But my friends, I assumed, would understand that I would no longer be able to dash out for coffee or spend long, lazy evenings drinking wine and chatting. Not for a while, anyway.
So I was gobsmacked to read, in a recent e-mail from someone with whom I have been very close friends for over a decade, that I had been neglecting the friendship and that, accordingly, she viewed the friendship as dead. We had been exchanging e-mails and occasional phone calls, but it wasn't, in her view, enough. So that was it. It was over. "I've already mourned the loss," she said, "don't e-mail me back."
There's much that could be said about this, about the shock and hurt that accompanies the sudden and unexpected death of a friendship. About how and why new motherhood - parenthood - might cause such a death. How new motherhood affects one's ability to maintain normal levels of social contact. About how I thought that I was doing pretty well, making sure that I stayed in touch, making sure that I explained why it was so difficult to get out of the house anytime other than weekday afternoons (weekends being reserved, largely, for making up lost time with a very busy Husband). There's much that I would like to say about this, because I know that she'll read it and I want her to hear it. But it wouldn't make much of a difference, because, end of the day, she did not end the friendship because my ability to socialize became impaired by new motherhood.
She ended the friendship because I blog.
Not because I have blogged about her or about the friendship. Not because I have violated confidences or said inappropriate things. This friendship was not dooced. What happened was this: she ended the friendship because, despite the constraints that new motherhood imposes upon my time and energies - constraints that limit the time that I spend socializing - I find time and energy to blog.
You make time, she said, for what matters.
True enough. I do make time for blogging. But I make time in 5 or 10 or, maybe, if I'm very, very lucky, 20 minute increments. I blog late at night, or first thing in the morning. Sometimes, I do it with WonderBaby latched to the boob. Often, I am unwashed and in pajamas, munching on an already-partially-teethed teething biscuit. (I know. I have just shattered the widely-shared romantic vision of HBM seated, with her laptop, at a tidy secretaire in an oak-panelled library, clad in stylish loungewear and sipping tea from a china cup). It is not, in other words, time that would otherwise be spent maintaining real life social networks. If any relationship takes a hit from the blogging, it is my marriage: many an evening, after WonderBaby is abed, the Husband gets assigned dinner duty while I finish a post. And so far as I know, Husband is not planning on leaving me because blogging matters more than helping him make dinner. (Um, Husband... right?)
But 'making time' is not really the issue here, either. I'm pretty sure that my old friend wouldn't begrudge me time spent writing, if writing was - and it certainly is this, as she well knows - a sanity-saver. The issue is that I am writing in what amounts to a public forum. I am not only writing, I am communicating. I am sharing my secrets, confiding my fears, telling my stories - to the Internet. To blog-friends. Secrets and fears and stories that I otherwise would be - should be - confiding to real-life friends. To her.
I get this. Sort of. Which is to say, I would get this if I had been the sort of friend who regularly confided secrets and fears. But I wasn't. Oh, I would, certainly, regularly catch good friends up on what was going on in my life, things that were bugging me, that kind of thing. But I've never been the sort of friend who easily shares her anxieties and fears and griefs. Hell, I'm not really that sort of wife: the Husband knows that the surest sign that I'm upset about something is if I stop talking. The more bothered I am by something, the less likely I am to talk about it.
Stop the presses: I do not like to 'share.'
To be more clear, I do not like to talk about things that bother me or hurt me or grieve me or move me beyond my comfort zone. I do not like hearing the sound of my own voice drone on about something that pains me. It's like fingernails down a blackboard. And I do not like to cry - hurt cry, pain cry - with other people. I do not like being held by anyone - other than my mother, my father or my husband - while I cry. I hate it. It unnerves me. Makes me feel exposed.
I don't know why this is. There's probably a good long post about why I am emotionally reserved. My psychiatrist thought that it was cause for concern: someone who hates talking about her worries and fears is, she said, going to struggle more desperately with the worries and fears that new motherhood can bring. She was right. But I still never talked about it.
I hate talking about 'it' - about fear or pain or sadness. When my nephew was diagnosed with a terminal illness, I withdrew from everybody but my husband. When we had to go through genetic testing and counselling to address the very likely possibility that I carried the same gene that will kill my nephew - the gene that I would almost certainly pass on any son I might bear, that would certainly kill any son that inherited it from me - I clammed up entirely. Didn't speak of it, unless pressed to. Because I couldn't bear to.
And this - this emotional reservedness, this clamming up - has never been more true for me than it has been during this first half-year of motherhood. It has been hard. Real hard. And I have not wanted to talk about how hard it is. Nor have I wanted to talk about how those challenges, those sometimes painful challenges, are well-steeped in joy. Motherhood has not only challenged me, it has pained me and confused me and amazed me and filled me with such joy that I sometimes cannot breath. And I have found it hard to talk about this, because the sound of my own voice seems to take the feelings away from me, make them not my own, disassociate them from me. It breaks the intimacy of my own experience of those feelings, it removes them from me in a way that is, to me, strange-making.
But writing doesn't do that. Writing about my fears and anxieties and sadnesses and joys - some of them, anyway - brings me closer to those feelings. Somehow, seeing them on the page makes them real in a way that is not strange-making. I don't know why that is.
And sharing those feelings, through writing, with family and friends and other parents, makes them even more real and accessible. It brings them alive for me, to share them in this way, to know that others are reading and nodding their heads or shaking their heads or engaging in any way with those ideas, those feelings. I don't share all of those feelings, and I don't share many details when the feelings are rooted in very personal stories. I remain circumspect on many fronts. But I am saying more - much, much more - out loud, in writing, than I ever have using my own voice.
It would not be the same, exactly, if I reserved all of these stories for utterance in my own voice, in the privacy of a friend's living room, or the intimacy of a coffee-shop huddle. I don't know why. I do know, however, that this is why I blog. This, and the desire to find community with other parents, other people who are going through the same, or similar, experiences as I am, and who are grappling with the same, or similar, fears and anxieties and joys that I am. Who find shit - real shit, in a diaper - funny. Gross, and frustrating, but also fascinating, and funny. Who understand that one can feel profound anxiety and frustration and joy all at once. Who understand that these experiences are sometimes difficult to talk about.
I'm not saying that I can only share myself through writing. I'd be in real trouble if that were true. I would not be able to sustain relationships if that were true. And, so far, I have been able to sustain relationships, while I have struggled through the challenges of new motherhood and while I have sought solace and release in writing. I think, actually, that writing openly has done much to enrich and enliven my relationships. I'm sharing so much more of myself with friends and family, near and far. Getting the shit that bugs me or causes me stress out of my head and onto the page leaves more room for talking about things that matter: I have more space in my mind and heart for chattering about the immense joy that WonderBaby brings once I've gotten the kickin' my ass kickin' my ass kickin' my ass complaints out of the way. And it has reignited my love of storytelling, and my desire to tell stories, stories and more stories. With my keyboard and with my voice.
But this friend does not want to hear them, not now. Not under these circumstances. She does not, she said, want to be "a window-licker," reading about my life alongside other readers. Reading, rather than participating.
I can understand that feeling, and I would be fully sympathetic, and apologetic, if I had shut the doors on her, or on anybody in my life. But I haven't; I really, really haven't. The doors that she begrudges me were never fully open, or were only ever opened after some well-intentioned, loving prying. What's changed is, a new set of doors have been opened, doors that I feel comfortable opening, doors that I enjoy opening. And they open, it seems, onto a public square, rather than a private, exclusive courtyard.
I can't change that. I don't want to change that. I am very, very sorry that this makes my friend unhappy. I didn't want the friendship to end; any perceived neglect was unintentional, the result of the circumstances of a new, strange life, a life that is no longer fully my own. But that friendship could only live in these new circumstances under the terms of these new circumstances. Circumstances that put new loves - WonderBaby - first. Circumstances that draw me toward new friends, friends that share and understand these circumstances. Circumstances that have drawn me out into the world in a different way. Circumstances that have changed me, and my stories.
I didn't want those circumstances - as if a baby, a new life, a new love, the greatest love, is only a circumstance - to undermine our friendship. I didn't expect them too. I'm sorry that they did. But I am not sorry for those circumstances. I can't be; I won't be.
Am I wrong? Have I violated the terms of a friendship? Is it unfair to expect to old friends to adapt as my life changes? Do the changes that parenthood brings necessarily sound the death knell for pre-parental relationships? (And - I have to ask this, I'm sorry - is this a girl thing?) Is blogging - blogging baby, or blogging anything - bad for real-world friendships? Must it be?
*******
There's someone new hanging in the Basement, sharing her feelings and anxieties. Go visit with her, and give her some support.
**And - NOW PLAYING at MamaBlogsToronto - When WonderBaby Met Bumper (Baby). It's a mommy-blogger/blogger-baby love story, and it's nice. Check it.
**And - NOW PLAYING at MamaBlogsToronto - When WonderBaby Met Bumper (Baby). It's a mommy-blogger/blogger-baby love story, and it's nice. Check it.
Mama loves. Better than ever. And, for fun, sets babies adrift on random bits of styrofoam...
posted by Her Bad Mother @ Monday, June 26, 2006
69 Comments:
Wow, HBM. This is an amazing post on so many levels and I empathize with so much of what you're saying. I too struggle with unleashing my darkest fears and worries on the internet. Not because I'm holding back or trying to project a certain persona but because I've found that writing about them doesn't do much to help me when I'm dealing with personal shit. However, I do have good "offline" friends who I can talk to.
I'm sorry about the loss of your friendship. From what I know, situations like this aren't that unusual when you become a parent. It's hard to explain to childless friends what your life is like now. At this point? Your friend doesn't "get" it. Maybe she will someday. Maybe she won't. It's been interesting for me to discover which friends understand my life as a parent now and which don't. But you know what? Life is short and I'm not going to lose sleep about it. If a few former friends don't "get" how important my daughter is to me and the effect that parenthood has had on my life? Maybe we weren't friends to begin with.
As always...excellent post.
I think there are friends who can adapt and grow with you and friends who were particular to a certain time or situation. I have friends who have been around for a long time, and former friends who were only part of a segment of my life. I'm sorry she seems destined to be the latter, though there may be some ebb and flow and it may come back around later, as some friendships do. (I'm not a hugger either - husband and baby are the only ones I'm really comfy with hugging.)
I started writing to keep far away friends and family up to date but it quickly developed a life of its own. Making connections with other people who understand life as I currently know it, is important. It makes everything easier even without deep confessions that I'd reserve for my close friends.
You are right that blogging is always at times that are not socially feasible. It's too bad that your friend couldn't find the joy in your writing, understand where you are coming from and more importantly value your friendship. (How derogatory is the term window-licker? Too germ infested for me.)
I love you. I do. You always know how to write it so I'm nodding, shaking my head and wanting to hug on you hard. I have no idea who reads my blog. I always had the "if you write it they will come" mentality, hoping that if I write publicly I will attract other writers and I have and I am happy. As for the flesh and blood true-blue people in life, it's pretty humbling to consider that when you peel away the flesh, there isn't much in the bones for which to relate, or appreciate, or understand, respect, want to.
Blogging is what it is. It's a way to reach out and tell stories. If that goes against the ethics of friendship then I'm not sure I understand.
Keep your head up, sister. You're good peeps.
I didn't have the circle of friends after I retired and moved here.
Now I do.
First let me say that that comment by Granny was really sweet. I think that blogging brings people together who happen to be sharing similar experiences at one moment in time. You shouldn't have to choose between writing/blogging/sharing your life with blogger friends and maintaining your other "real life" friendships. A true friend wouldn't ask you to do that. I hope she has a change of heart and realizes that you can blog about your feelings and still maintain your friendship with her. I hope she also realizes that a true friend wants good things for their friends. And blogging has been good for you.
((hugs to you, HBM))
I really felt this post HBM. Sincerely. It was honest, real and raw.
I am so sorry to hear that your friend felt betrayed or, rather, misunderstood your blog. Because like you mention, blogging usually happens in times not fit for social consumption anyway ... not instead of it.
My real life friends read my blog and are learning more about me than if I never blogged. For those that are far away, they appreciate that and can see what writing has done for me and my sanity. For those who are close sometimes what I write opens a dialogue and is cause for a call or a visit or an email where we talk about whatever I have blogged about in a more intimate way.
I don't think that blogging and your other friendships have to be mutually exclusive. It sounds like she is using this as an excuse. When a new baby arrives and priorities shift there are alot of changes in relationships - more than any other "circumstance". Blogging is just one of those changes for you. Friendships either adapt or fade. Maybe in time she'll see that and return to be part of your life.
You are a good woman HBM and anyone would be lucky to count you as a friend. Real life or not.
You are a good friend. Because you managed to blog about this issue in a way that made me sympathize with how awful it must have been to open an email from a friend that says, "don't email back." (I can't even imagine how hurt and blindsided you must feel, actually.) But you also made me sympathize with how your friend must have felt, feeling as if she knew you and was important to you, only to find that the very things you coudn't bring yourself to share with her, you could splatter all over the Internet. A lot of what I feel when I put myself in her place is wounded pride - along with a kernel of rejection, as if it were my shortcomings as a friend that meant you couldn't come to me with this stuff in the first place (putting myself in her place here).
As you explain, you really haven't changed your behaviour with this friend, started holding back or shutting her out. The problem is that now she feels as if she has been shut out all this time and didn't even fully realize it.
I can't imagine that I would ever cope with those kind of feelings by writing a Dear Jane letter to a friend. Maybe it seemed like the only way to communicate those feelings of hurt without issuing a corresponding demand: "Talk to me and tell me stuff that you would never reveal on your blog in order to prove that you like me best." It's all very grade-seven, but I think many, many women measure their friendships this way - I know you're my friend if you tell me things you wouldn't tell anyone else.
I don't think you've done anything, ANYTHING wrong. But I can see how those hurt feelings could be created anyway. I'm so sorry that your friend has chosen this way to handle them.
Wow- this is so interesting to me because I had this experience as well. My friend did not end the relationship, she is hanging on, but she surely feels frustrated being a "wiondow licker" and has told me that she feels like she has lost me to my internet friends.
I have heard the argument that I make time for blogging so I must have time for (Insert however it is someone else wants me to spend my time).
My boss/friend reads my blog and I know she feels frustrated that I haven't done some of the things I said I would, and then she see's an updated post.
Just because you make time to post doesn't mean that the time you used to post would have been good to do something else. Like you said, it is inbetween moments, when blogging happens. 2am sometimes. Inbetween bathtime and bedtime when the hus is reading the bedtime stories. Blogging happens in moments where I am totally "on call" and can be interuprrted at any given second. Not ideal for real time socializing. Or heavy concentration work.
Anyway, as usual HBM, I feel I'm on a parallel journey to you. I look forward to meeting you and sharing stories in real time together soon. (Not at this gathering, but the next no doubt)
The loss of a friendship sucks, and while I have to say my friends (who are far away so it's sort of easier to stay connected with them via email/phone) my friends all stuck it out with me (except one), it's one of those things that I think "man, what kind of person are you if you break up a friendship over blogging?"
It's one thing if you were blasting her all over the internet, however, to offer a mother (depressed mother) some type of outlet, some moments to her self, etc... you would think a friend would be supportive of such things.
And I imagine, she doesn't have kids. And if she does, double POOP on her.
HBM, I've read this post a few times (while Bumper naps on my lap and I type with one hand) and it makes me wonder: what if you had "opened up" to just her, what if you had "unloaded" just to her, do you think she would have been there in the capacity she implied she would be? I think not. She would have probably run for the hills, chalked it up to mommy insanity or something more trite. Or maybe I'm thinking that because it makes me angry/sad that someone did such a hurtful thing to someone I like, and I'm thinking they weren't a great friend. Being someone who also was dumped via email for other reasons, I've often reflected on friendships and their evolutions. And how you really learn more about them during the lean times.
I've got to run...Bumper is stirring and typing withone hand is getting difficult. But I'm so looking forward to the Smackdown story - we had a blast yesterday!
I'm sorry about your "friend." How awful.
But, I'm with you on losing friendships. My story is different, but similar. It hurts no matter how it is done.
I, too, got a nasty e-mail. Who breaks a friendship over e-mail? It's so mean. (Though said friend also then e-mailed me to sell me candles - and invest in a business ...)
As far as the blogging friends and sharing your life online and stuff. It's so completely different. To me it's different because no one has to read it. I can say what I need to and if you don't want to go and read what is going on in my life, if you don't care that I got a new stroller or I am dealing with biting or that my daycare made me cry, that's fine.
Some people don't get it. But, I applaud you for keeping on. And, I'm sorry for that awful e-mail because even if she wasn't a friend worth having words like that haunt you, and aren't easily forgotten. (I think I could still quote you my horrible e-mail).
I am hoping that when my real life best friend of 10+ years finally visits me for the first time since my wedding 2 years ago, (as motherhooduncensored mentioned, the distance helps) that she will not suddenly morph into this thing you just described. It is hard to hang on to those friends you left behind when the "mother ship" arrived, but not impossible.
I think it helps that my above-mentioned friend is child-obsessed and took tons of child development courses in college.
I am going through a friend break-up right now so I really feel your pain. But could never have expressed it so well.
I am not losing her to blogging because no one knows about my blog. Ironically, I am losing her to her recent marriage. The ironic part is that I spent the the last 6 married years and 1.5 mothering years of my life making sure she never felt left out by my new life and new obligations when she was still single. Now she is married and suddenly there is no time for anything but her new husband. It is so maddening that what I spent the last 6 years trying to avoid for her benefit has suddenly turned on me and bit me in my ass. Geez, I am bitter. Sorry to have rained on your blog.
Blogging is therapy. I do understand her feeling left out by reading things that you write that she wishes you had told her in person, but it is so much easier to write than talk. She is hurting but you aren't wrong in anything that you have been doing. And please, for the love of all that is chocolate, dont stop blogging!
PS - I am addicted to The Basement. Is that wrong?
I hope your friend is reading what you wrote and really thinking about her choices, because if she is ready to write you off (so harsh, by the way, what she wrote to you!)because you do something you enjoy and that helps you feel better as a person, then she is not a very good friend. Full stop.
Not knowing her, maybe I am totally wrong about this, but it sounds like she has some serious insecurity issues and is putting them on you when they are really about her. It's hard enough not to feel bad because you don't have time for friends like you used to without having someone act this way.
I'd be soooooo sad if you weren't blogging. By making yourself feel a little better during times of ass-kicking, you are making all of us feel better too. If you lose that one friend, so be it- just remember that you have many many more in the computer who are available inbetween dog hair pullings, tantrum throwings and naps.
I have friends that became moms years ago, before I even met my husband. Things changed--we weren't able to do the same things we used to. Sometimes we didn't even see eachother for months.
I didn't have a problem with that. I met new people to do those things with and kept in touch with the old friends as much as possible by phone and email (still do).
Your friend should be more understanding. You've done nothing wrong.
It's her loss.
I'm blown away by this post.
I have friends that have drifted away after my kids were born, but never anything like this. While I sort of understand what she is saying I find it incredibly selfish. I do have friends that feel affronted when they find out news about my family on the blog, but it is a lot cheaper and faster than calling everybody I know long distance.
Maybe this is something you guys can resolve later when she realizes what really happened. It is so difficult to understand what being a mother is like unless you have children, and how some things are simple to fit into your schedule and some aren't. Blogging is something you can do at naptime - going out to lunch with a firends isn't.
Wow! Wow, wow! What a piece of writing! I hate to sound harsh, but any "friend" who would wish to deny you this outlet doesn't seem like a friend to me.
I am sorry for your loss. I think she should be even more sorry for hers.
I don't even want to read the comments before mine because I don't want my words influenced by others...
If I could I would hug you, quickly, and look upon a kindred spirit. Or, perhaps, a sister or twin seperated at birth. I will not share pain willingly, but I will be the strong shoulder for anyone who wants to vent or spill. That is what keeps me strong. Sharing my own pain makes me feel weak. I have a small number of people whom I keep close that I will allow myself to break down with, but that's it. I even have a hard time sharing with my blog friends, but I'm better in this forum at it for the reasons you described. Thank you for puttin it in words.
Before I complete hijack your comments I want to tell you that I hope your friendship can be ressurected, somehow someway. Once cannot erase history with an email.
God yes. All of it. The friendship (and loss). The reservedness. The ability to write comfortably on topics that I wouldn't speak of aloud.
How I look forward to meeting you.
You are not wrong, so if you can put that thought out of your mind.
All friendships much change or die. Some will survive children and some won't. It's an unfortunate part of Motherhood, but it happens.
I find it easier to blog about things as it's easier for me to get thoughts together on paper than try to explain myself to someone.
I hope in time she wants to be friends again, but realize that the real loss is her's.
((hugs))
Wow. That was a great post. It's something I've gone thru, and am kind of going thru, at the moment, although not with the nasty email, more with avoidance (so mature, yeah?).
I can't help but think your friend is being immature about it all. First of all, why didn't she bring any of her concerns to your attention earlier? Second, to just say "It's over, don't write back" smacks of cowardice. It's over because it's on her terms. It's not been a mutual decision, it's not something you both had out and realized that the friendship had run its course, she just took it upon herself to get all in a snit over your blog (and what? people really do that??). She took her ball and stomped off home.
I can't imagine how hurtful that was. I'm also hoping she reads this and at least hears what you have to say, because you said it well, without getting at all accusatory or angry.
I just broke up with my sister (yes, my actual sister)for similar reasons--because I blog and because I communicate more fully blogging than in person. I, too clam up, can't stand the sound of my voice, can't portray the depth of feeling.
It does seem quite selfish and inconsiderate for your friend to end it just like that though. I am sorry for the pain that must have caused.
"...the sound of my own voice seems to take the feelings away from me, make them not my own, disassociate them from me. It breaks the intimacy of my own experience of those feelings,"
Oh yes yes yes. I know this. I feel this way.
It doesn't sound to me like you violated the terms of your friendship. What it does sound like is that you both had a different conception of the relationship, and she has needs that you can no longer fulfill. Which leads me to think that she on some level must be kind of self-involved.
Life is change. We marry knowing that we will not be the same people in the future. We hope that how and what we(and those we love) become will allow us to love more instead of less. I don't think friendship is any different.
No, I don't think blogging is bad for real world relationships. If anything, it can let us appreciate them more.
You and I are very similar, in that it is very easy for me to communicate through writing. In person, via spoken word? Not so much. When you said that your husband knows something is up with you when you *stop* talking? That's me.
I'm really sorry about your friendship. In a way I can see where she's coming from, but from what I read here it doesn't sound like she gave you much of a chance to salvage the friendship, and I don't think that's necessarily fair. I think that as mothers, we do so much for our children and have to inevitably put so much of ourselves on hold, that when we find something that helps -- like blogging -- we have every right to jump into it wholeheartedly. I think it's a bit sad on your friend's part that she can't be more happy for you, because you've found an outlet that is primarily for YOU, that is helping.
What an awesome post, HBM. The way you describe yourself, your tendency not to talk about the painful things, the not wanting to be hugged etc is so familiar to me, as is the idea that somehow saying all those things is easier on the blog. I am so much more open on my blog than I am in person--it seems safer to me, to express these emotions on "paper" than to another person. And it *has* improved my real-life relationships, just like you say. Anyway, I know that wasn't the point of your post but I just wanted to say thank you, for writing that, because it makes so much sense to me, and makes me feel less fucked up.
As for your friend, I'm sorry that it ended. I'm sure it is difficult for both of you, and maybe there will be room in both of your lives for friendship again, some time from now. Maybe when your friend becomes a mother.
I don't really think this is a case of anyone at fault. YOu are just in different places & need different things right now. Maybe the only fault is that she is not willing to be patient enough, that she doesn't value the friendship enough to wait through this period to get to where you are at the same place again. Or maybe she is in such a dire spot that she CANT wait. Maybe she needs too much from you right now.
Anyway, I'm sorry. Losing a friend sucks, no matter how it happens.
I'm very sorry a friendship has ended for you. I don't really know what to say that hasn't already been said. It just seems odd to me (and a little selfish) that she isn't happy knowing MORE about you regardless of whether she got it from your lips or your blog. It still comes from you. Maybe she's just not into sharing. I know the two or three real life friends who read my blog actually enjoy (they say) the insights I put out there. They've said it helps them know me even more.
I can relate to this and yet I can't relate to this, because, honestly, most of my pre-baby friends-- I am tempted to put "friends," in quotation marks, here, except, really and truly, many of these people had actually seemed very good friends-- took a hike during my pregnancy, or shortly thereafter. They didn't even stick around long enough for me to alienate them through mommyblogging.
I guess it has much to do with my age-- being that I was just a year out of college and 22 when I unexpectedly got pregnant (23 when I had my child), most of my friends were not only childless, but actually somewhat terrified of the prospect of children. It wasn't even just that I couldn't go out with them to smoky bars or coffeehouses and dance /talk/people-watch until midnight anymore-- it was like my very presence made some of them (especially the women) uncomfortable.
Anyway, you describe the process of blogging, how it takes place in the in-between times, when you couldn't be talking to a friend anyway-- absolutely perfectly. I mean, it often takes me an entire day, sometimes two, to complete a single blog post, snatching five minutes here and ten there. How could any friend stand it if you called them repeatedly throughout the course of a day to talk for five minutes and then hung up, promising five more minutes of conversation in another hour or two?
I don't think anyone can possibly understand the manner in which a small child absolutely monopolizes every moment of your time, even your supposed "free time," until they have one themselves, unfortunately . . .
(Sorry to once more be The Notorious Post Hijacker).
So, I've had this post brewing in my head about how blogging is so weird because I feel like I'm cheating on the people in my life. But not really, because I never talk about the stuff I do in my blog. But you said it a thousand times better than I did.
The openness of blogging still freaks me out.
Hi, I found you through a link at Beanie Baby.
I'm sorry to hear about the loss of your friend, it sounds so awful.
But, can I add: when you say the relationship that suffers when you blog is your relationship with your husband: I can absolutely relate. My husband has been tolerant of the blog, but he's often, I can tell, mourning the conversations we used to have in the evenings.
Good luck with this. Maybe your friend will come around after she reads this.
"[...] the circumstances of a new, strange life, a life that is no longer fully my own.
yes.
and yes, again.
why do our friends believe that we are selfish in our choice to become parents? I've lately been grappling with that thought as I go through my day. I think you've brought down the gavel on my decision to post on the subject.
p.s. I think it's groovy that you share yourself the way you do; and I totally get the thing about hearing your complain-y/grate-y voice. it kills the beyond-words feeling of certain, important stuff.
OK, first off, this friend of yours simply cannot have children, or she would not be acting this way.
I knew having a baby would change everything (jeez, now I sound like a J&J commercial), but luckily most of my friends have stuck by me. They know my time is even more valuable now, and so far no one has called me out on blogging. In fact, it's how many of my friends, even those who live nearby, keep up on what's going on in my life.
Like you, my blogging is done during my "in-between" times. If it wasn't blogging, it would be checking my e-mail, or reading, or knitting. But because this friend can tell you've had a moment of free time when you blog, she now is angry you're not using your moments of free time with her. That just sounds selfish to me.
I do open up about things bothering me, but I tend to distance myself emotionally as I talk about them, so many don't realize how much something bothers me.
If your friend can't share you with others, then maybe it wasn't meant to be. I've lost friends due to distance and life changes, and we mourn the loss but have no blame, and we still try to remain acquaintances if possible. And most of my non-parent friends like children, and so have happily adapted the friendship for my new parental self.
I'm so sorry your so-called friend did this to you, but I think you've done nothing wrong. If that friend can't handle you having interests and activities that don't include her, then she needs to get over herself. And dear god, wait until she has kids, someday - hopefully then she'll realize how wrong she is.
To be honest, I think it's a little unfair of your friend to expect that just because you blog, that you have all the time in the world for her! You deserve your "me" time to blog. If your friend can't understand what blogging is for you, then I wouldn't even "mourn the loss" yourself!
I'm guessing your friend isn't a writer. If she is, I'm surprised. I don't mean that in any negative way--it's just that for writers, especially in this semi-anonymous forum of the blogosphere, writing is necessary. It's not a substitute for real-life relationships, but it helps us to work through some of the crap that we just might not want to bring into those RLRs (and our RL friends/family should thank us for that sometimes!) No, I don't think you broke any rules of friendship, and I'm sorry that your friend thinks you did.
I can't wait to hear about the WonderBaby/Bumper meeting. Alex and I are insanely jealous.
Also, I say "Mama loves" about 147,927 times a day.
"What's changed is, a new set of doors have been opened, doors that I feel comfortable opening, doors that I enjoy opening. And they open, it seems, onto a public square, rather than a private, exclusive courtyard."
There is a safeness, an annonimity, in the very public act of blogging. Yes, you are putting your thoughts, your feelings, your inner self out there for the world to see. And, perhaps there is a certain "high" that goes along with sharing those innermost pieces with total strangers. But at the end of the day, at the end of the post, you are safe in your privacy, securely tucked away from the eyes, ears, and voices in that public space. The phone doesn't ring with unsolicited advice. There is no relentless knocking on the door from those who think they know what you need, no demanding that you pull yourself up and do whatever it is they think you must do. Or if there is, it is merely a comment that can be ignored or deleted. You are free to review the advice, the pats on the back, the reality checks at your own pace and discretion. There is no guilt for reading one comment more quickly than another, nor for re-reading the comment again and again and again while neglecting another. (Apparently I have a post building on this topic as I've had to read this comment and edit it several times now to get it short enough to be a comment! I'll stop with the space-hogging now...)
I'm sorry for the loss of your friendship. It hurts. Selfishly, though, I'm thankful that you've opened these doors and that you have those pre-shower, pajama-clad, mushy-teething-biscuit-breakfast moments to share with those of us going through the "same" thing!
I'm not gonna say the same thing as everyone else, although I agree with all of them. What I am going to say is that I'm a little taken back at how closely you described my emotional strength (or weakness) and how MANY people feel the same way. WOW. I was never able to put it into words, and you just did.
I think you should dust off your shelf and make room for a perfect post award. =o)
I had friendships that ended once I got married, when I went back to school, and when I had each of my children. But I've also had friends who have been there through it ALL. Change is difficult for people. And sometimes, people -- friends, even spouses -- can only see you in relation to THEM. They don't see you as just YOU.
It's painful when friendships end, but I've often wondered how deep those friendships really were if they couldn't stick around through the thick and thin. After all, I've had other friends do it.
But you do have us, HBM. You, your cute wee one, and your fabulous, often humorous, honest, and sincere writing will keep us coming back. See, from this angle, we DON'T see you in relation to us -- we just see you (as much as can bee seen in this forum). And we love you.
You aren't wrong. She is a Bad Friend.
A Bad Friend is a person who lays ultimatums on someone - "Pick THAT or pick ME" - or who demands that their friends dedicate as much time as possible to them regardless of the titanic changes parenthood makes in someone's life, or who doesn't recognize a wonderful thing (like a friend being able to open up and find release through blogging) for what it is, and be happy for their friend.
She was, without a single doubt in my mind, a Bad Friend.
You were not.
Send her a T-Shirt that says "It's All About Me." Cause it obviously is.
That was an amazing post. I have just started reading your site last week, but I am highly impressed. I think that blogging is such a part of my life that I couldn't give it up at this point. There is nothing wrong with finding new friends. And that's part of what blogging is. My 'real" friends don't read my site, not anymore anyways. Yet they are okay with me changing a bit. I think that is what keeps friendships going, people who are ok with you changing and people who change too. People do not stay the same their entire life. There is a quote I heard once about friends being in your life for a reason, a season or a life time. I lost friends after I got married and after I had kids. I also have has some of the best friends in the world for most of my life. The real friends stick around.
I think the fact that the person wouldn't even give you a chance means that she had moved on long ago. She is just using blogging as the excuse.
And no, I don't think it is just a girl thing. Guys just do it differently.
Late to the party - as always. Taking my granola and iced coffee break amidst packing. Of course, I am also reading blogs...
Friendships are, well, puzzling to me, in a whole variety of ways. The facet of which you describe here, is most puzzling of all. I too, had a post baby breakup with a friend WHO WAS A MOTHER ALREADY.
And HBM? I SO get the part about expressing yourself better via words than face to face emotions. Crying? HATE IT. Will do anything to NOT cry. Then get mad for crying.
So, the break is up and I am being whipped back to packing. I will be your friend, HBM. Regardless.
this pisses me right the hell off, BECAUSE- how dare someone tell you what you should or shouldn't make time for. and don't people realize that blog time, is YOU time.. and we ALL NEED ME TIME. you know? and i'm just sorry that the friend was that high maintanence. i can't deal with friends who require too much of me. or demand my time. i need friends who are easy going and can just be okay that i don't have the time to give randomly anymore that i used too. but that doesn't mean i don't think about them, or wont' be there for them if they need me. you know?
Oh, my heart hurts for you. I think you speak for so many writers (and yes, that's what you are) when you talk about the "need" to write. You don't need to justify it, certainly not to friends who should know better. But I've found that the verb blog doesn't nearly hold the water of the verb write.
Sometimes my own sigOth gets mad: "You're on the computer all the time!" And I have to remind him, I'M WRITING. I think if it were a novel he'd understand it better.
My sense is that this was a friendship that would have bottomed out eventually. My dearest friends, they understand that priorities change. What makes them friends is that I can see them once a week or once a year and it's like we never were apart.
I'm sorry. I just hope that as this door closes, many more open.
I feel for you, but I swear, I think it's hilarious that a friend dumped you because you blog! That's too funny!
I've lost a lot of single fab friends...but I suppose I've met a lot of new good mother friends too....
It all equals out..even though it may suck to lose a good friend....But it happens, all the time..
I love that, "Dont' e-mail back. I've already mourned the loss of the friendship." Too funny....
Relationships are supposed to grow and change over time. You can't control the direction in which they move. If she's unwilling to participate in your life as you live it, you can't change her mind. It's a shame, but there it is.
HBM, I'm speechless (or whatever the blog equivalent would be).
I'm sorry you had to find out that your friend is a creep. Perhaps she'll have a baby of her own one day and then she'll "get it," and it will be too late. And she'll get to "mourn the loss of your friendship" all over again.
Not that I wish her ill, I'm just sayin'...
Heavy duty stuff here HBM. What a post.
Hey lady.. I think you say like 10 times in there that you don't know why x or y is the case.. stop it. Who knows why weirdo crap like this happens. Who wants to know?
But enough bossiness... I will say I thought blogging would hurt my limited time for 'real-world-friendships', no no no. Has actually been a plus for me and the man. I think prior to our blogging we were much more insular. Now we have renewed devotion to the importance of the multitudes, real and 'imagined', in our family.
I agree with MIM that adult relationships entail a number of closures accompanying change. I had a friend break up with me just prior to my pregnancy... I listened to what she said and I guess she might in someways remind me of your case here. In the end, tho' it grieved me.. tho' I was not really used to this sort of shutdown I had to say, "Well it does appear we have achieved a level of dysfunction in our relationship that suggests bye-bye.. so bye-bye." Took me some getting used to... I am sorry, among other things going on with you, this is on your plate, now.
alreigggght.. 'nuf from me and my elephant sized comments.
wow, hbm - clearly your post, so eloquent and honest, has resonated through the hearts of lots of us. i think women - particularly moms - go through this. it happened to me when i got a serious bf (now hubs), it happened when we got engaged, it happened when i had our baby. i don't want to judge your friend, but with the ones that i lost, i realized that they had always had issues with someone being happy when they were not. it was a shock to me too - once we hit a certain age, we don't expect friends we've had for a decade to break up with us. we expect them to share our joy, share our lives and stick it out with us. i'm sure you've lived through her 'distractions' with freindship intact, but she probably doesn't remember that part.
it's amazing how, just when you think you have a handle on this completely intense, completely new set of circumstances (i.e. motherhood), something happens and you are once again plunged into feeling like everything you've relied on as true is not.
Ouch...breaking up is hard to do. Your post really resonated, and I am sorry you have had that experience.
On the other side if blog land, I wrote about how I felt I had broken up with a long term friend, roles were reversed, me the Mum, her not. For many of the same reasons.
Lesson: freedom of speech it ain't, these darn blogs can get a gal into trouble.
Beautiful writing, I will visit again to read....Anne
Wonderful post and everyeon pretty much said (much better) what I feel.
I do think that friends - like spouses - must learn to accept a persons growing and changing. Relationships can't be static. You have to adapt.
-Blue
I'm so sorry that your friend felt the need to e-mail you what she did. I'm also sorry to say that in my opinion, if she were a "real" friend, she would totally understand that your life has changed since becoming a mother and she would accept that. I hope that one day she is able to experience motherhood first-hand and realize how hard and wonderful it is and appreciate how you DID try to stay in contact with her the best you could.
You're not wrong. You're so right, and you're doing such good for yourself and for the rest of us who, like myself, read this and said, "Yes. That's why I do this." And then said it again when we read the next paragraph. And again.
It is not unfair to expect her to adapt. After all, she was expecting you to adapt your motherhood to her needs, why can't you expect her to adapt to your motherhood?
As for blogging being bad for real world relationships, I find that blogging primes the pump, getting me started talking. About me, about 3B, about anything. Once I get started, often I keep going in email to friends and family (who are all distant, making phone calls not so easy). I find that, as a result, I'm in closer contact with more people. Sure, most of it is done via the net, but most of my friends and family are distant, making phone calls less convenient, since we're not all awake at the same times.
Thanks for writing what I haven't been able to express.
This was an amazing post, as usual. I can completely understand the urge to write/blog about something that would be nearly impossible to describe in person. Something about the cool impartiality of the blank page reflects your own mind back to you in a way that another person often cannot.
Having a child has affected many of my friendships negatively too...not so much because I blog (although my writing friends wonder why I "waste" my time doing that instead of working on the novel...um, because it's cheaper than therapy and I can do it while Madam is napping) but because they cannot seem to fathom how different my life is now. They expect me to spend my time catching up on the latest indy movies and local theatre scene. Unless you count the local puppet theatre scene, that's just not my life anymore.
It sounds like you did your best to include this friend in your life, in spite of your newly constricted free time, but she still thinks you are giving us, your readers, something that you can't give her. And it's too bad that she cannot see that this is the way you are processing this whole amazing, frustrating, frightening, overwhelming motherhood time.
Thank you so much for this post.
So sorry to be late arriving. I must say I gasped reading this, because I could so much relate to what you said about not discussing the most upsetting, most critical fears in life with people in real life and out loud. And I have thought about what it's like to have someone I care about read something for the first time on my blog, something I haven't been able to express out loud (this happens to my hubby sometimes) -- but I have decided that the value the blog provides as a release outweighs the risk that I might offend. And, I figure those who truly love me will "get" me in that way.
I do hope your friend reads this beautiful piece of writing and can come to her senses. It might well be that the friendship can't be mended, but she'd be well served to realize that this isn't all about her.
Hugs to you, HBM.
As usual, I'm late to the party... My two closest friends in the world do NOT know about my blog. Part of the reason is because of some of the reasons you also stated; not liking to share etc. I mean, I can vent and be angry and share that with anyone but the more personal things, the things which aren't necessarily secret but the things that are like little peepholes that let you see behind the "mask" and get glimpses of what's really on my mind or in my heart. It's one thing for you to read it on my blog and then get to know me IN THAT WAY. It's another entirely for you to have known me one way for years and then find that there are things you didn't know or never bothered to see or I didn't let you see. So for now, it seems best to keep the old blog to myself, despite the anguish it causes me to keep it hidden from them. I love my blog and honestly, I'm afraid it would ruin it for me. Because, like this comment, it's ALL about me ;p
But your friend is kind of making it all about her. A truly good friend might have considered that blogging is good for you and it serves a purpose that you need served. Honestly, she sounds a little jealous. But that's neither here nor there. One thing I've learned is that people come in and out of your life. Period. Saying goodbye hurts but not everything is meant to last forever. Anyway, I've hijacked your comments and I should really just shut up now. {{hugs}}
I just found your blog, apparently I've been living under a rock. But Hurray! I did find it.
I too struggle with truth in blogging. Especially because right now my husband is the only regular reader of my blog. I started to blog because I needed a place to vent, destress. Since half the time I'm venting about him, or wanting to, I'm not sure it's such a great thing that he reads it. None of my other friends know about my blog, and I think that it will remain that way.
On another note, I just finished reading about your nephew Tanner. I spent fifteen summers volunteering with kids with MD at their summer camps in Michigan. Those were some of the best weeks of my life. One of the most memorable moments was listening to a couple of the little boys (six to ten years old) I took care, of talking to each other about what they were going to be when they grew up. It was so NORMAL! Yet, within that conversation was also talk about dying and would they grow up. It was all so matter of fact and none of them seemed upset by it. I think that conversation hit me harder than it did any of them. In our area kids were able to attend summer camp once they were five years old. I hope that is something your nephew gets to experience some day. It's a great place where all the kids with MD get to be "normal" kids for a week.
Female relationships are complex - much more so than our male counterparts. Multiply that complexity by 2 in adulthood. It becomes even more difficult to attain those bonds. (In fact, I wrote a post about this called "On Women Loving Women".)
...and I think technology, not just blogging, makes that gap even wider.
I'm one who could NOT let go of old friendships, despite the fact that they'd long since fizzled. I still tried to blow air into a deflated balloon I guess you could say. Why? Because I hate losing people I love in my life and because I was afraid I wouldn't find that kind of connection again. Especially because of all the TIME invested in that relationshiop.
Time. It all boils down to that. How can a new mother split her time...
So to circle back to my point. You came to a crossroads with your friend. You're not ready to let go. The post speaks to that. You handled the situation eloquently. And be prepared that this may not change her mind. But in a few years, when your child is older and you CAN spend more time on yourself, she may come back into your life. Or maybe by then you will have decided on your own that the friendship was a chapter in your life and you'll close that book and put it on the shelf.
This is painful for someone without a child. Because you've grown and moved forward into a place she can not join you. I too have friends in that place. And I feel the gravitational pull. But my child is my first priority. And someday, when she is a woman, I'll prepare her for the same events that challenged me as a new mother as well.
Here from Sarah via the Perfect Post Award.
Indeed a perfect post it was.
I meant to add that I read the post on your Nephew. It won't help to tell you how I cried over this, but my heart goes out to you, your nephew, and his family. And I hope someday a cure is found.
Wow.
I had one gf who got into a bit of a snit because of my blogging. Same sort of stuff (window licking) but we talked and she realized it was a creative outlet for me, that had nothing to do with our friendship.
Too bad your gf couldn't understand that. But it would seem that you are better off without her.
You have written something amazing here. I think that people forget how much easier it is to pour your heart out to a bunch of strangers....strangers that you never see their faces, and unless they post a comment, you don't hear their opinion back therefore you're not afraid of speaking your mind and heart.
It is too bad that you have lost a friend over this, however, it is her loss.
From one GTA mom to another - HUGS!
Isn't it odd that our friends don't always come along with us on the ride that parenthood takes us on. We become such different people, while still trying to be ourselves in some way.
I am sorry you lost your friend. I will not say you are better off without her, as I do not know her. But it certainly seems that there are bigger issues at work on her side than just your blogging.
The best part about life is making the new friends. The unexpected friends. The ones you didn't even know were coming along.
I just discovered your blog through a friend of a friend and am so impressed by your great writing, humour and honesty.
Your post about the loss of a friendship due to new parenthood is so powerful. You mention that all "the books" etc. warn us about this, but it's so hard to find anything honest and accurate about what really happens to the social lives of new moms (especially how hard it is to manage one's social life after a baby!!). I have been thinking a lot about how I treated my old girlfriends that had children before me. I "get it" now, but I certainly wasn't all that understanding, nor was I the friend that I could have been. Perhaps, your friend will come around one day (after she's had children, of course!).
Hi, I just came across your blog. I can relate so much to what you are saying. I too do not like to "share" my feelings and thoughts and all that other stuff with my friends. I blog about it.
I too lost friends once I got married and had a child. My single friends didn't get it. Finally when they got married and had children they contacted me to finally say "im, sorry! I now know what you meant". It's a shame that people can't adapt and understand when you have children that your life will change. That you will no longer be able to do things you used to do. But eventually they will "get it".
I am going through a loss of friendship(s) lately due to other reasons that I even don't fully understand.
I wish you luck!
The same thing happened to me - my best friend had her baby and didn't have the time for me. Given the fact that i had just experienced the worst three months of my life with a death in the family, it was difficult for both of us. I didn't understand her new situation and she didn't understand mine. Unfortunately she didn't have the head space or time to try and understand mine. It was a difficult for both of us. But because she has a baby everything has to be on her terms. Just once I would like her to call me and see how I am, see how sad I am, see how lonely I am. She gained and I lost, but she doesn't seem to realise this. She thinks it was the most difficult time in her life for her, but it is the beginning of a beautiful life. Unfortunately you never know until you experience it. I won't know what it is like till i have a baby, and she won't know until she experiences what i did. And i don't want her to have the same experiences as me. I would just like some consideration of my circumstances.
Well... here I am the lady with no baby and no intentions of having one. I would like to leave a comment on behalf of the lady being slammed, in support of the lady being slammed.
Have you considered that it is not the blogging taking place that has left her heart broken but perhaps the fact that you do not pick up the phone and call. You do not take 2 minutes to send her an email, when you have more than 2 minutes to write to the rest of the world?
That perhaps you have left her out of your life when she never left you out of hers?
I too am "mourning the loss" of my best friend who just had a baby.
I think a lot of your are correct in your stance of communication. But do you want to call your best friend and say... hey ... why don't you call anymore? It's pretty obvious when someone does not call you and they used to call everyday. She knows she doesn't call.
I call every week just to keep in touch. There are no returned phone calls. I know she still likes me and I am still considered a friend. But when the phone calls that you used to get are now going to new people (with babies and children) it makes you wonder if perhaps you are being forgotten because you don't have a baby-you can't possibly understand. I say try me... pick up the phone and try me ... I just might understand.. but I can't if you don't call.
OK so before all you mummies out there start slamming me .. which of course I expect, as I get that in the community I live in. "She doesn't understand how much work it is to have a baby."
Sorry ladies... life is work... and when you choose to have a baby ... that's what's going to happen... you are going to have to work hard at maintaining your life... that means maintaining friendships... They are a two way street.
I too am incredibly busy I run two companies and also have to clean the house, wash clothes, wash the floor. I work just as long hours as a mother with a baby (might I add that I don't get to sleep in because the baby didn't wake me this morning.. no I still have to get up at the same time and get my work done).
So in closing... all you ladies with new babies. Don't forget your friends are still there. We are busy and we make the time for you. Friendships are relationships it take two to have one. So pick up the phone or send an email. Be persistant.
If you want a friendship then you need to be a communicater to.
Hey, Anonymous.
My (former) friend was not being slammed - by me, anyway. I was simply expressing my hurt that she would abandon the friendship. She made a choice, I don't like that choice, there you go.
You're right that time spent blogging - at whatever hour - could be time spent sending e-mails. I didn't stop communicating with this friend - I still sent and responded to e-mails - but the communication did become less frequent. On BOTH sides. The thing was, I had made it clear that my time was really, really pressed, what with a new baby and all (and? Can I add? There is NO WORK in this world that is as bone-crushingly and psychically tiring. You will never know this unless you have a baby. Sorry. I don't care how many companies you run or how early you get up - it's not the same.)
I was exhausted, all of the time. And fighting off PPD. Writing was a life-saver. Friend knew this. But Friend couldn't see past her own issues in order to give me the time and support to get used to my new life.
Sure, communication runs two ways. But shouldn't good friends recognize and be patient and supportive during difficult times? This friend just wrote me off, didn't even try to work things out, not even when I asked her to NOT write me off. She didn't want to hear it. That's not good friendship.
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This just happened to me a few days ago. Friendship of 11 years, suddenly just...gone.
Blogging was a big part of the reason why.
She always said that she would do everything she could and never just walk away, but in the end all it took was one e-mail that said "I can't stay in this friendship any longer."
The worst thing?
I had been horribly sick for months, going to docs and trying to figure out if I had some life altering disease...sick, scared, and depressed. She waited until I was well and dropped the bomb. I feel like all that time she was simply humouring me.
This is my first time reading your blog and my first time responding to any blog. I searched for this topic on google because I'm trying to deal with life on the other end of the spectrum. I think its great you are able to feel connected to the world through blogging. What a great time we live in!
My 2 closest friends had babies within the past couple of years. I am hopeful that soon I will have kids--I'm engaged to be married in a month, and we want to start trying soon after. It was strange because of the three of us our one friend, H, had a baby first and the two of us childless ones were left wondering "what happened to her?" It was like she fell of the face of the earth. And she didn't express to us how hard it was to return our calls, she didn't invite us to the baptism or 1 year old party. She didn't meet my now fiancee until a year after we had started dating. We were just cut off by her. Then the other friend, S, got pregnant--with twins! I was estatic for her because she had been trying for 7 years and had gone through great lengths to get pregnant. Now the twins are 10 months old and the hardest part is that she moved 2 hours away while still pregnant. Despite her distance she is my maid of honor, she calls me when the kids are napping. She emails me, sends me pictures of them, made it up to one of my dress shopping experiences. She has told me about how they haven't slept in 3 days. She hasn't cut me out of her life.
It is a 2-way street. It is hard for the ones left behind because they can't understand and it's this exclusive club that they aren't allowed to enter. But you can take pictures and share stories and invite them to peek through the back door. The first friend, H, still lives 20 minutes away. I know she cares about me and considers me a friend. I have thought about saying something to her but I don't know what to say without sounding "selfish" and like a "bad friend" i just miss knowing her. Maybe if she had a blog I wouldn't feel so bad cuz at least then I'd have some portal into her life. Good for you for finding an outlet to share with others that understand you. This has helped me writing this, maybe I need to start a blog! What would you mommies out there advise us non-mommy friends to do?
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