Ghosted

It's been a long time since I've been "ghosted" - at least this is what it felt like happened in the last few days though subsequently turned out to be just an uber-tardy response. I'm not convinced it isn't the first step to a fuller actual ghosting response. Live and learn, I guess. 

The last time I was ghosted was at the end of a 12 year relationship and it's fair to say that my broken heart never repaired. I have been gun shy ever since. And it turns out that it doesn't need to be a relationship for the technique to be used - it can relate to any social connection. Either way, it's a tool used by cruel cowards (and, yes, I want to use the other c-word) seeking to walk away from something that isn't quite working. That I reacted so badly to a long stretch of radio silence is probably a product of that earlier experience - the silence triggered a wave of unwanted memories.

This time around, it related to a (loosely described) friendship. Even if the parting of ways seems like only a 50-50 prospect. I'll be honest - it's hard for me to gauge if the silence choice this so-called "friend" has made is entirely accidental (and they are not aware what they have done) or deliberate (and seeking to avoid any confrontation on some challenging truths). Either way, the impact on me has been undeniable.

I know in my heart that my inquisitiveness tends to terrify all but the most open of mind-mate friends - and my writing has always been one of my outlets to channel the excesses. My favourite friendship circle are those who connect on a deeper level who have long embraced my curious philosophical perspective of the surrounding world.

Sadly, this has not been the case for the so-called "friend" who has been on the periphery of my world for about three years. Over that time, I have refused to budge on being my authentic self and their efforts to corral and compartmentalise frustrated me to the point where this song by Powderfinger (Like a Dog) has been a brain worm in my head almost every time we have met - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1nJg2BzOt8 - especially these words:

If you treat me like a dog
And keep me locked in a cage
I'm not relaxed or comfortable
I'm aggravation and shame

Ghosting isn't always due to a lack of care. It's often a misguided effort to avoid hurting someone. Many people stop replying to shield others from pain. The perpetrators don't realise being ignored is usually much worse than being rejected. Candour stings briefly. Silence leaves an open wound. A recent study highlights this impact - see article precis below from a well-regarded psychology journal.

The irony is - of course - the use of the phrase "ghosting" as this poem by Andrea Cohen below so eloquently highlights - 

How cavalier
people are

with language
and with the silence.

Any ghost will
tell you -

the last thing
we mean

to do

is leave you.

So there you go. A festering wound created from their lingering silence - a cut that will never heal. Not even a scar will form to hide the damage. Even though I expected it given their track record, it hurts, and antiseptic cannot wash away the ache.

Wisdom comes with age I guess. A few weeks ago I was asking myself why I felt neither alive nor dead from the interactions with the person who made the cut. It took all of a microsecond for me to accept a change they offered at our last encounter (in part because I was a breath away from offering it myself). I recognised in a heartbeat that the platitudes being spoken were an immature attempt at sugar coating what on the surface looked like it was (likely) going to become our last conversation. The words spilling from their mouth steadfastly avoiding giving any real feedback. Looking back over the conversations we've had, it has generally been an open field (me) battling a brick wall (them). It's exhausting for both of us. Genuine friendships should not be this hard.  And, in my gut, I just cannot sense us ever becoming 'great mates'. 

It is hard for me to believe Mr Never More will do the right thing - the lingering silence is entirely consistent with their taking me for granted the last few years, and certainly - it has been very clear to me since last September this is a tough challenge in this friendship. (The poem I wrote at the time signalled it stereophonic loud.)  I have been reluctant to cut them loose though as the eternal optimist in me believes things can always be salvaged with some effort. The dismal social science economist in me, on the other hand, has been pulling me into the water.

I am drowning in a sea of disappointment.