When a Friendship Ends

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As women we think of break-ups and broken hearts to be at the hands of men. You sit with your girlfriends and analyze the what-went-wrongs over a bowl of ice cream. You cry, you vent, you burn pictures of happier times (or in my case, box it up, label it “asshole” and demand your mom bury it in the attic) and you move on.

But what happens when a friendship ends?

When a bond dissolves and all you are left with are the memories of a friendship that used to be? When there are no losers, obviously no winners, but so many losses.  The loss of what-used-to-be; the deafening laughter, shared secrets and memories of joyous life celebrations; and the loss of what-could-have-been.  Regardless of whether the relationship ended in slow and subtle deterioration or if a defining moment marked the beginning of the end, the hurt is real either way. When the person we have cared so deeply for, trusted with our hearts, becomes a stranger to us; when the words coming from her lips leave us hurt and broken, either from her complete indifference or from the spitefulness in her voice, we are shattered just the same.

As women, how do we handle this loss?  How do we handle the hurt?

Lately, as it seems, we feel the need to label the lost friendship, give it a shameful name and advise women to avoid this “type” of friendship at all cost.  For the past few weeks, I’ve seen articles/posts/essays written about these so-called ‘toxic friendships’. Those friendships that leave you feeling broken and beaten, rather than inspired; or are motivated by manipulation rather than love and respect.  The articles depict toxic friendships as those in which one friend is intensely demanding, hurtful and obviously destructive.

Do I think these friendships exist between women? Absolutely.

But I also believe that not all friendships that end are were toxic… or at least they were not always this way.

I believe that like long-lasting friendships, these began as strong relationships and were originally built on mutual respect and trust. But over time, these (toxic) friendships eroded into an unhealthy balance of give and take; one in which the friendship and expectations were poorly defined.

Dependent and Enabler.
Giver and Taker.
Unrealistic expectations and Undefined boundaries.

And eventually, for whatever reason, these friendships fall apart.

And as the dust settles, the path becomes clear allowing for reevaluation and reflection.

We realize that what we had, and more importantly, what we could have become, is gone.  It’s no longer about anger or forgiveness, but rather the apprehension, fearfulness and unwillingness to make yourself susceptible to hurt again.  Conflict arises in all relationships, but it’s how we handle ourselves in this conflict that matters.

Does anyone handle themselves perfectly? Of course not.

We all make mistakes.

But words can hurt. Used carelessly, words have the power to leave you feeling shamed, unloved, unappreciated and disrespected. And while words can be forgiven, they can not be unsaid, unheard or unfelt.

A successful friendship is one in which both parties feel comfortable and open to vulnerability.  A solid friendship is one in which we graciously expose our weaknesses and our vulnerabilities, giving them insight into our hearts and providing them with the power to hit us where it would damage us the most… and trusting that they never will.

Sadly, not all friendships are forever, but no friendship is wasted. They teach us what we want and what we don’t want in our relationships. They also provide a mirror to who we are in the eyes of others, both the good and the bad.

Ultimately, if you can’t trust that you are in a safe friendship, have confidence in knowing that walking away is not the same as ‘giving up.’  Never be ashamed of what you feel or for striving for nothing less than what you deserve. Be careful not to aspire for perfection, but rather for sincerity and honesty. Be true to yourself and don’t be afraid to define the friendship and your expectations of it.

Don’t let the feeling of having had enough make you feel like you are not enough.

You are enough.

And your friends should think so too.

Friendship Quality

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There was a time, not so long ago, that when it came to the game of Life, friendship quantity trumped friendship quality.  As if having more plastic pegs in my car game piece made me a guaranteed winner when I finally reached my destination. Sure I wanted good friends; friends I could trust, friends I could count on, but at the end of the day, I was happy to surround myself with twenty-five good friends instead of a handful of totally amazing once-in-a-lifetime friends.

In fact, if I’m completely honest with myself, at the time I may have actually considered them all to be ‘once in a lifetime friends.’ But in reality, how many of them did I really know and how many really knew me? Not many. Those that did, they stuck around (and these days I probably couldn’t get rid of them if I tried), the others fizzled out after graduation, marriage, and babies #1, #2, and coming soon #3.

I think the idea of quantity over quality was something engrained into my brain during my middle school years.  I’d like to say that I wasn’t as impressionable as most pre-teens are; after all I never held a cigarette, tasted alcohol, tried drugs, or even kissed a boy (much to my dismay) but when it came to friends, I was a middle school addict.

Each year I kept most of my friends from the years prior, but I continued to add to my ‘Best Friends Forever’ necklace collection. In fact, one year I distinctly remember having a three-way best friend necklace with  two of my BFF’s (a peace sign, heart, and smiley face of course)… friends who I barely spoke to the following year as we had officially moved on to our next BFF.

The trend continued in college, but it wasn’t until Marty and I were planning our wedding during my last year of college when I realized that I had spent so long surrounding myself with as many friends as possible, rather than truly developing each friendship to its full potential.  Originally, my husband wanted seven groomsmen. I, on the other hand, was panicked at the thought.  How in the world could I think of seven close girlfriends that could not only stand by my side on my wedding day, but that I knew would be present in our new life together for years and years to come?

I had surrounding myself with so many semi-good friends, but couldn’t pick seven close friends to stand as bridesmaids. Luckily, we compromised and agreed on five groomsmen and five bridesmaids, which made my decision making process much easier.  It was that year that I decided to put more effort and time into my cherished friendships, the friendships that would stand the test of time.

I’ll admit that over the course of the six years since our wedding, one move across the state, several job changes (for both Marty and I) and 2.5 children later, I haven’t always been a stellar friend.  But at the end of the day, I am incredibly thankful for the friendships I have maintained and the new ones that continue to develop.

Today, I’m incredibly thankful for the friends…

that send cards that say this when you just wanna cry about having a belly bump at 7 weeks pregnant.

that send hand written letters (seriously, who does that anymore? Awesome friends, that’s who) to tell you that no matter what changes, they have your back.

who don’t judge you when you confess “I went all incredible hulk on my kid today. Seriously, after today, I can guarantee I will never be nominated for mother of the year. This will forever be known as the ‘nutrigrain bar’ incident.”  Instead, she laughs and tells you how much she loves you.

who send a text saying “I’m a hot mess right now and I need my support system.” Which really means, “Sound the alarm, rally the po-pow sisters, and lets plan a three hour dinner.”

who make jokes about your misery during the first trimester and suggest you try a Harry Potter spell to make yourself feel better.

who drive three hours just to sit with you in your OB’s office, watch uncomfortably as you have a vaginal ultrasound done, then tear up when the little peanut makes his/her picture debut.

who can sense by the tone of your voice that today isn’t a good day and you need them… now. And then smile and laugh when you break down in tears and tell them you are unexpectedly pregnant.

who you can tell anything to… and not only will they not judge you, but will confess that you are not alone in your thoughts or emotions as they have often felt the same things as well.

who know you family members almost as well as you do… and vice versa.

who can understand a cryptic Facebook post and can make an equally cryptic response in reply.

who, before you hang up the phone, tell you they love you and pray for you every night.

 What friendships are you thankful for?

Canada Conference Craziness

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Today I had planned on driving to Dearborn for a “Women’s Health Visit” CME conference.  But when my alarm went off at 6am (and again at 6:10 and again at 6:20) I decided that learning more about pap smears, Gardasil, and osteoporosis was not in the cards for me today. Instead, I asked the babysitter to come an hour later and leisurely roamed around the house before deciding to throw my hair into a greasy ponytail and throw on a fashionable GVSU T-shirt and shorts. When the sitter arrived, I bolted out the door.

A morning to myself.

Can you feel my muscles relax? Can you hear me singing Taylor Swift in the car as I drove away? Can you feel my stress decrease just a little bit?

I decided that rather than catch up on STD prevention and contraception methods, I’d spend my morning doing whatever I want: blogging, reading, working on our digital family photo album. Anything that I could do from the comfort of the Barnes and Noble that I have decided to inhabit this morning.

Last night, as I (finally) published my post on my evening with my fellow PoPoW’s I realized how many unfinished posts I have waiting for me to complete. Therefore, that will be my first task this morning…

A few weeks ago, I packed my rather large suitcase, kissed my girls good-bye and headed to Toronto for a five day weekend with my favorite PA girls for the annual American Academy of Physician Assistants conference.  My excitement was slightly higher than a little kid on Christmas morning… and probably unnecessarily so. But this was my first ever weekend away from my little girls, my husband, and spent with my girlfriends.  I may have even danced a little when waiting for Meg and Sara to pick me up.

As the three of us drove the three hour trip to Lauren’s home in Ontario, there wasn’t a second that wasn’t filled with talking and loud laughter as we quickly tried to catch each other up on our lives since we last saw each other.

When we pulled into the driveway and Lauren ran out to greet us, it was as if the three years since PA school vanished… we were almost all together again.

That night, we celebrated the upcoming arrival of little baby boy Hollis, devoured yummy home-made enchiladas, and ate way too much confetti cake. We shrieked with excitement that we were all together again with no husbands, no babies, and no responsibilities for five whole days.  We all went to bed that night, not needing to set alarm clocks or shush little kids to sleep.

In the morning, I woke feeling completely refreshed and rejuvenated. I flung the blanket off and not-so-quietly walked upstairs, convinced I slept in the latest and the last to wake. Instead, the house was silent except for the ticking on the kitchen clock which read 6:45am.

6:45am? No way. How could I possibly feel this wide-awake this early in the morning? I check the time on my cell phone.

6:45 am

Hmm. Guess not having to wake up in the middle of the night to ease nightmare fears, fix blankets, or pick up dropped stuffed animals makes a difference in the quality of sleep you can get.

An hour later, as my friends began to wake, we huddled under the blankets on Lauren’s bed and discussed everything from baby poop blow-outs, husbands who don’t pick up after themselves, and non-compliant patients.  We had breakfast and took our time getting ready for our drive into the city.  As we loaded our large suitcases into the car like a game of Tetris, the excitement began to build again. Once in the city, we would meet up with Becca and Molly and our girls weekend could really begin.

While the bulk of our trip was spent in lectures from 8am to 5pm learning about diuretics, Ehler’s Danlos Syndrome, and chronic kidney disease, the evenings were ours and they were ah-mazing.

We explored the city of Toronto, ate delicious dinners, sipped over-priced alcoholic drinks, and laughed until we nearly peed our pants at the comedy club.

We sat in our 2 bedroom hotel suite and discussed SIADH and the acute abdomen while Becca pumped and the rest of us gorged on our smorgasbord of snacks. We acted like tourists, looked up at the buildings while we walked throughout the city and stopped to take ridiculous pictures.

We took note of all our Canadian observations that left us confused, frustrated, or completely amused:

Gas station attendants still do exist and when you get out of your car, laugh at the two blue balls spinning around on the gas pump, and have absolutely no idea how to turn it on, the attendant will begrudgingly help the not-from-around-here-are-you girls.

Fountain pop is a rarity and you must go on two mile walks in the early morning hours in search of a restaurant that serves fountain pop. And when discovered, it shoots out of the machine alternating between syrup and carbonated water making you think the machine needs repair, but in fact, that’s just how it’s done in Canada.

Cheque= form of payment
Check= hitting in hockey

Driving is slightly difficult when everything is measured in kilometers and your car only measures in miles.

Mountain Dew does not contain caffeine.  (I know, if blew our minds too)

Recycling containers placed throughout a conference center without trash bins confuses wasteful Americans who are used to throwing away anything without a ten cent deposit. For example, if you were lucky enough to find a fountain pop and now want to dispose of the cup, do you throw it in the paper receptacle, the plastic receptacle, does it really matter? Where the hell is a normal trash can?!

The music selection in public places is simply fabulous. In one afternoon, our ears were graced with the sounds of Gansta’s Paradise, Pump Up the Jam, and numerous Backstreet Boys ballads.

Canadian convenience stores surpass all Walgreens, Rite-Aids, and CVS’ in “the states.” Where else can your forgetful friend purchase a breast pump at 8pm on a Saturday night when she is in desperate need of relief?

Bottled pop is ridiculously expensive. However, when you desperately need caffeine to survive eight hours of lectures, you will agree to pay $3.00 for a 20oz of Pepsi.

Michigan accents are very similar to Minnesotan accents. We speak through our noses and have ‘nasally accents.”  For instance, we say “mam” instead of “mom” and “an” instead of “on.” (Go ahead, say it out loud, it’s true)

There are no pharmaceutical commercials on Canadian television channels.

Hotel pools with a depth of 1.2 (meters) just looks weird.

Toilet paper in public restrooms dispense like napkin dispensers.

Asking to have all your nacho toppings placed in a bowl and your chips kept separate (in order to dip your chips into the nacho goodness) is ‘very strange and must be a USA thing.”

And the number one Canadian observation that completely baffled us American girls…  milk is bought in plastic bags, not plastic jugs and put into pitchers once at home. (weird huh?)

Although I was excited to return home, to sleep in my own bed, and hug my girls and husband, the five days in Toronto with my PA girls went entirely too fast. Thinking back, so did our time spent in PA school.  The days were long, the tests were difficult, and the stress level was indescribable, but those three years were over within the blink of an eye and sometimes (only sometimes) I wish we were back in PA school. Studying at Panera, sipping gallons of caffeine-filled Mountain Dew, and drawing diagrams to better understand neuropathology, the RAAS system, or the coagulation cascade.  Other days I am beyond grateful not to have to sit through another TBB lecture or type up Clin Med objectives.

But no matter what, I will always be grateful for my PA friends that I obtained through the way.

Nothing compares to a friend who can relate to the frustrations with noncompliant patients, discuss pap smears and the whiff test without gagging, and laugh at your medical-related jokes that are often lost on everyone else.

Nothing else compares.