I had this friend once who was…well…toxic. She was the sort of friend that many if not all of us have at at least one point in our lives. I prefer to refrain from referencing real people’s names in these posts so for the sake of ease, I will call her Em.
I had been friends with Em for as long as I could remember. In the earliest years of our friendship it was as if we were of one mind. We would play together, freely and without worry of what others would think. We didn’t care if we made a mistake or didn’t know how to do something because we were doing it for the fun and the sense of adventure it provided.
Something changed. I can’t pinpoint exactly when but I began to notice it strongly when we entered the oh so wonderful world of adolescence. The world where everyone wants to fit in and look cool and embarrassment or derision from those of the highest echelon of cliques was worse than death. I was a pretty shy, inhibited child as it was. Anxiety was no stranger to me and for various reasons I often felt awkward and/or invisible. Em was constantly by my side and I held on to her like a security blanket.
I noticed whenever I even considered stepping outside of my comfort zone, Em would whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. What if you make a fool of yourself?” If I wanted to try or learn something new she would tell me that I shouldn’t because I probably wasn’t any good at it anyway. Always, Em would convince me that it was better to stay safe in my current little world than to venture out. Most of the time, I listened to her. The rare occasions where I didn’t and I ended up failing at something or embarrassing myself, she would inevitably say in a quiet yet confident voice, “See? You poor thing, you should have listened to me.” She raised “I told you so” to an art form.
When it came to relationships, Em was really in her element. When I would begin a new relationship with someone she would – surprisingly-initially revel in my happiness and my ability to view myself in a more positive light. At the first sign of a bump in the road, a fight, or any tension between my significant other (or friend) and I, she would intervene fiercely, reminding me that it was better just to ignore my feelings and not rock the boat rather than explore what was occurring, share my feelings, and/or stand up for myself. She advised me to be silent, to stuff my feelings away and paste a smile on my face. Time and time again she repeated her mantra that being nice had always been my currency and that doing so (meaning taking a submissive stance and ignoring what was occurring) was the only thing of value that I had to offer. “It’s really the only choice” she would say. “You don’t want to be one of those aggressive, harsh girls who always ends up alone, do you?” She would prey on my love and my suffocating fear that I might lose the person I cared about, conveniently ignoring the fact that I may lose them anyway or that perhaps losing them was healthier for me.
As we both got older and I began to develop my own interests and build my confidence, I found that Em didn’t talk to me quite as much. Yet she was always there to catch me when I would fall. She would pat my shoulder as I cried and would recount all that I had done wrong in the situation so that perhaps in the future I could get it right, or, better yet, so that I would remember that the world is a scary, dangerous place and that it is not safe to try rise beyond my current place in this world. Evolution and growth were NOT words that Em was very fond of.
Amazingly, Em stuck around as I progressed into my adult years. When I achieved success by not taking her advice, she would begrudgingly congratulate me while also subtly downplaying my accomplishments, making me feel that perhaps I didn’t truly earn my success but had just gotten lucky. She would get quieter after these incidents but I knew she was lurking in the background, just waiting for me to fail like a cat preparing to pounce on its prey.
I made mistakes. Who doesn’t? Whether they were little, inconsequential ones or mortifying ones, she would make a big deal of them as if they were major milestones that defined me, overriding everything else I was and everything good I had ever done in my life. As time went on, her reappearance in my life was more forceful and intense despite it being more sporadic. Sometimes it was as though she was yelling at me. Her condemnation evoked in me such an overwhelming feeling of shame. I felt exposed, afraid, and worth so very little. More than any other person in my life, she had the power to bring me to my knees and multiply my pain to the point that it was all that I could see or feel about the situation.
Yet always, always, she would finish with her arms around me, and remind me in a soothing, compassionate voice that she was just doing this because she cared about me and wanted me to be safe. She would reassure me that she loved me and understood me more than anyone, and was just trying to help guide me as though I wasn’t capable of guiding myself. Ironically, I realized many years later that the pain that engulfed me as a result of her words (particularly when I was already feeling embarrassed or bad about the mistake I made) robbed me of the opportunity to value some of my mistakes as a learning experience.
I am sure that many of you are asking yourselves right now, “Why in the world did you continue to be friends with her? Why didn’t you cut her loose?” It’s a valid question, and yet haven’t we all at some point endured mistreatment or abuse from someone we cared about far longer than we should have? The simple answer is that…it’s complicated. However, I feel that you, dear reader, deserve a better answer than that.
The more complex answer is that I am not completely sure, though I have some theories. Em was my oldest and dearest friend. I could not remember a time when she wasn’t there for me or by my side. She had watched me grow from a shy young child who possessed secret dreams and a vivid imagination to a more confident woman who not only dreamed dreams but had the courage to manifest them. Yes, she said and did some pretty hurtful things which wounded me deeply. But she was also the only person who had consistently, throughout my life, never turned her back on me. Every time I would fall, she was there for me, even if no one else was. In many ways, she understood me. It was as if we didn’t need words to communicate. She understood my silence and, oh, what a relief that was at times. I know it may be hard to believe, but Em herself was a beautiful being in so many ways. I truly believe that she wasn’t trying to be callous but that she sincerely did not want to see me get hurt. She did not want to see me take a risk, a leap of faith, and fall only to find that there was no one there to catch me. So she aggressively offered her own misguided brand of “tough love” in an effort to protect me and help me to avoid the pain that comes from truly living a life. I think, too, that it was Em’s own limitations, fears, and insecurities that enveloped me.
I could understand that. I could even have compassion and love for her. But understanding, compassion, love, and forgiveness do not require me nor even encourage me to continue to put myself in a position that hurts me or tears me down rather than building me up. I was finally getting to a place where I appreciated myself and saw my own worth. I was reaching ever closer to the often elusive love of self and I knew that if I continued to let Em influence me, I would never get there. I would forever be stuck in a cozy little coccoon, mostly unseen and probably bitter, rather than having the opportunity to reach my full potential and fly. I knew that now that I was more aware of how Em’s actions and words were impacting me, if I had any love and respect for myself I must confront Em and I must do so in an unyielding, yet loving way. In fact, confronting my frenemy with high expectations, a firm stance, and an open, compassionate heart was likely the most loving thing that I could do for both of us.
After a great deal of consideration, this is what I decided to tell her…
I would tell her first of all that I loved her. I would then tell her that I know she has been trying to keep me safe, but that her toxic words and attempts to limit and/or shame me have actually done more harm than good. I would remind her of some of worst incidents of her negativity. I would also remind her of who I really am and the ability I have proven time and time again to learn, grow, and do a job competently. I would outline for her my hard won accomplishments. I would have her recall the times when I have helped others as a result of being willing to take a risk. My litany of stories wherein allowing myself to be authentic and truly open my heart to someone and show them all of me resulted in a love and/or friendship so deep that simple words were not adequate to convey my pleasure and joy. I would remind her of the resilience and wisdom I have gained over the years each time I made it through a negative experience or stepped outside of my comfort zone. Most importantly, I would point out that despite my many failures over the years I have picked myself up each and every time and have gone forward. She could not deny that I was still here, still living my life, and I am stronger, happier, and better for it all.
“Em,” I would say, “this is the hardest thing I have had to do. I love you and I truly appreciate your attempts to keep me safe and shield me from pain. But I don’t need you to do that for me anymore. I don’t WANT you to do that for me anymore. I believe in myself and while I know I will continue to make some mistakes and encounter some grief and pain, I will survive and learn and grow through it all. I am not perfect, but I love who I am and my failures do not define me. I see through my mistakes and sometimes bad or unhealthy behavior to the beautiful soul that lives within and you, my long time friend, should too. ”
I would let her know that I want her in my life more than anything, but that it has to be on my terms. If she was willing to be drop her guard and her walls and be vulnerable and accompany me on this journey, I would be more than happy to continue our dialogue and our friendship in a much healthier manner. I might even be able to help her release some of her limits and experience new heights of happiness. If she chose to continue her well meaning yet pessimistic attempts to limit me or make me feel bad about myself, I would refuse her. I would not listen to her and I would turn away until she was ready to treat me with the respect that I deserve. That wouldn’t be easy, but I was determined to do so.
I didn’t know how she was going to take it. I hated conflict and it was going to be unbearably difficult and painful to confront her. I didn’t know if I could look her in the eye. I was a bundle of nerves; sweaty palms and shortness of breath accompanied my uncontrollable fidgeting. I had to work hard to not give in to my instinct to just run away and forget the whole thing. I knew I had to do this, for her sake and mine.
The time had come. I needed to confront her. I needed to move beyond this wound and this continued pattern because it no longer served me. Hesitantly, she stepped from the shadows into the light. I took a deep breath, looked in the mirror, and I began…