But Would You Fight For Me?

The Friendship Edition

I recently ended a friendship.

I’ve had friendships end in the past. However, they’ve faded on their own. This was the first time that I directly stated “We’re done.” 

Did I handle it well? Absolutely not. 

I know this because I continue to play it back in my mind weeks later. 

I sent a brief text and blocked her. 

There was no space for explanation, conversation or repair. 

I didn’t owe her an explanation. 

I didn’t want a conversation. 

I wasn’t open to repair. 

I didn’t want any of that anyway so, I did alright? 

Who knows. 

I am almost 50 but emotionally, I am 11. There are days when I am 13. 

How to deal with relationships as an aware and conscious adult is unfamiliar to me. 

I’m proud of myself and disappointed at the same time. 

I’ve had decades of therapy, taken numerous courses, read countless books and yet, I haven’t learned how to navigate a healthy relationship? 

Robin, please be for real. 

But here’s the part I just realized - I’m not an adult. I never have been. 

When I stare in the mirror at my thinning gray hair and soft brown wrinkles, it’s a child who stares back at me. 

I was raised by an emotionally unavailable parent who kept me alive. And that’s it. 

Did she teach me, guide me or protect me? She was at least there but, no. 

Another realization is that while I’ve put in a lifetime of work to heal, I’ve never actually had the space to heal. 

My life has been trauma after trauma without any time to recover. 

If you’ve read my writing then you know my past. 

The way my nervous systems has never experienced peace…

This is one of the numerous reasons I’m immigrating to Mexico this year. 

I can’t heal here. 

And while I may not heal (regardless of where I live) I refuse to die in this country. 

But deep in my negro spirit I completely believe that existing outside of ‘merica as a Black woman will ease many of my current issues. At the very least, it’ll give me the space to gently sit with them. 

As for my friend? 

It was a 10+ year friendship with a white woman who loved me but wouldn’t fight for me. I’ve always known that - this was the year I accepted it. 

The white friends in my life now would burn shit down on my behalf. Them folks stay mad. They don’t just hope our society isn’t racist one day - they take meaningful actions to make this place less trash for me. 

While I grieve parts of our friendship, her silence was too painful to ignore anymore. 

But more importantly, I deserve better.

It’s ok. I’ll find more friends in Mexico.