Dear Mutual Friends: It’s not you, it’s me.
Thank you for trying to stay friends with both of us during and after our divorce. It was a boost to my self-esteem that you hung in there, refusing to choose sides, trying to be objective, and wanting to remain in both of our lives. I didn’t need you to choose me over the other party; in fact, I appreciated your patience and eternal optimism that you might get both of us in the same room to celebrate big life events with you and your family one day in the future. I am grateful that you still play a role in our children’s lives; they may need a soft place to land when they are being tossed among the waves of the rocky shore between their parents.
I want to acknowledge that I have been the one pulling away, not you. When you don’t call or text to check in and tell me how you’ve missed me, don’t blame yourself. The blame is all mine. At first, I wasn’t aware that I was actually putting some distance between us. I really thought it was just the challenge of our growing kids’ busy schedules, my newfound contentment with being home with my partner, my need to hibernate during winter (even when winter barely peaks its head around the corner to remind us that she is lurking). As time went on, I started to question why I wasn’t more tenacious about staying in touch. I was feeling a lot of guilt, dear mutual friend, because I’m not one to let go of friendships, particularly ones I’ve had so long that they’ve become like family. If we’ve met each others’ parents, siblings, cousins, childhood friends, children and we have spent holidays together, I am loyal to a fault. I don’t think it’s right to turn my back on family, which is why the divorce was so shameful and difficult to accept, and so I was struggling with my gut feeling that it was probably healthier for me to let you go like I’d had to let go of my husband.
I’ve been reflecting on this a lot, and here’s what I’ve realized: it takes a special kind of person to stay friends with both parties after a divorce. It takes objectivity and strong boundaries to show up for two people on opposite sides of a war and support them equally; to not denigrate either party or provide ammunition that provokes more animosity. But please, don’t feel badly because you are not this kind of person. I’m not saying this to try to shift blame from myself to you. I am happy to take all the blame. I’m the one struggling with boundaries, and I know that if we get together, I would probably ask about the other party, and then you would tell the other party I asked about them, and then the other party woulds communicate their disappointment/disgust/judgment of me based on whatever they thought they heard you say about me, and then the other party’s partner will chime in and level accusations against me because I am talking to our mutual friends about them, and then I’ll be stuck in my bunker waiting for the storm to pass.
After surviving this onslaught a few times, I’m just tired. Conflict is exhausting, and even when it’s one-sided, I think I’m all set with that. My nerves are shot and frankly, it’s not worth risking any commentary from the other party. I wish I could say I valued our friendship enough to brave the battlefield, but honestly, if you’re not going to choose me, then why should I choose you?
(mostly) full disclosure 