Letters you write but don't send
First blog of 2022.
The 3rd anniversary of your funeral has been and gone. I was talking to a friend yesterday about this blog and I thought about the letter I'd written to Sz in December. I took hours to put it together and used the tool to read it aloud back to me. Even with the automated voice, it was kind, full of pain, set boundaries but I didn't, I couldn't send it. It might have been I just needed to write it, to express myself and actually tap in to feelings. Identifying my feelings has been a huge learning curve these last few months, thanks to Atlas of the heart by Brené Brown. I have to ask myself what would the letter have achieved... anxiety mostly. Do they deserve to know my vulnerability, how much they contributed to my misery? Would they care enough to lean in or would they attack? They did post up a FB status about sending people things and not expecting anything back, so I didn't send anything, like I'd usually do, I did of course say thank you via a private message. I'm not into the habit posting all over my social media and tagging people who give me things either. Voyeurism isn't necessary when you give proper thanks directly. I have seen that they've recently been out with K and are still good friends. If I'm honest, I no longer wish to try and rescue this so-called friendship. No ill is wished but also no interest.
No one really reads this blog (because I still rarely share it) but I feel I need to include it as it's relevant to the whole sorry saga.
Dearest Sz
It is not my intention to hurt you but unfortunately, this letter will probably upset you. It’s the elephant in the room, it’s so big, I can’t breathe. I have been trying to verbalise this for many months and now seems the time to do it. I am going to send this after Christmas but to be honest, there’s no good time. 2021 has been all about letting go, for me. I have to release this, what you do with it, is up to you. Will it initiate a healing phone call or end the already fragile friendship? I wish I was brave enough to be able to call you up and say this, but I know I’ll choke.
Your gift has confused me. A wonderful, thoughtful, lovely gesture, something that I love, has confused me. I don’t know where I stand. I over think, as you know. Going on the last 2+ years, it isn’t any wonder that I feel this way. I am aware that this is my perception of the events, you will have yours.
I love my friends, whole heartedly, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. Be it listening to drunken rantings at 2am, nurture their wounded self, raise them up to the person I know them to be, stop them from hurting themselves… or driving in the middle of the night to make sure they are still alive and okay. And more. I do all of those things and more. I was consistently there.
Then Florence died and you all abandoned me, all too ready to believe the worst in me. I was excluded. I was accused by people I loved of wrong doings, that I hadn’t done. Lies were spread about me to anyone who’d listen, those people then told me. One of my best friends killed herself and I was left to defend myself and mourn alone. Then my other friends dumped me. I had to mourn the loss of 5 friends. I wasn’t able to grieve for months and months, it broke my heart in every way possible. I was alone. I had to write letters to her, to process my grief, my guilt and loneliness. Guilt because I felt that I’d abandoned her, because I was so angry after her last attempt. I was still there though but not like before; going to the rescue to sort her car out, chat about blacksmithing and other stuff. She reminds me that she was crap too. She was.
This is the last time I will justify myself about this. I said I’d stop doing it but on my son’s life, I swear I’m telling the truth. If that is not enough, nothing ever will be.
The funeral.
I nearly didn’t go, all the crap that had been said beforehand, I was full of anxiety, I had to stop the car and throw up. I put a brave face on and pretended to ignore the vibes. I made sure that I introduced you all to her family. You recall that her mum was surprised that there were so many of us and I made sure she knew how important you all were to Florence. When I asked her about if H knew about her early years, it was because I didn’t want to mention something that she didn’t know. I had COMPLETELY forgotten about the shooting thing. I was referring to her being in a woman’s refuge when she was a little baby. The source of Florence’s CPTSD trauma. You all seem to forget that I had a relationship with her family, I had been invited around for Christmas etc. and we had spoken many times before. You remember when she said ‘she finally succeeded then’ when we went to speak to her? I’ll circle back to this.
My so-called friends left without even saying goodbye. Not only that, but C accidently mentioned the wake at L’s pub that I hadn’t been invited to. If I hadn’t looked up when I did, I would not have seen you all drive by me. You were part of that. I sat in my car sobbing my fucking heart out. I could barely speak when I rang J, desperate for a friend, I still can’t believe you all just drove by me without even a wave.
Ey Up.
I was approached by several people, who told me what I’d been accused of. They had been phoned specifically to slag me off. After the ceremony, H and her family came to my stall to speak to me. I was asked what had happened and I told them everything. I asked H whether she’d told K during their call, not to tell people and she said no. I told her what I’d done, how I’d done it, fully ready to accept an earful. She said that I’d done nothing wrong and that she’d not said anything of the sort. We spoke for ages and hugged afterwards. I felt vindicated at last. I tried to tell you this, but you were guarded, and I felt that you didn’t want to talk about it.
My favourite lie about me was that I wasn’t even Florence’s friend. That cut deep. ‘No don’t go there, she does this all the time, just leave her’... remember? We went though because that’s what friends do, make sure they are okay, show them that you care, that you are there for them and they matter. As far as I know, I’m the only one she text ‘I love you’ to, the day before she died. Not her friend! What sort of spiteful person says that about someone, who they claimed only weeks earlier, that I was their best friend!?! I will never forgive that.
Circling back.
After D’s funeral, I found myself at Florence’s house. I had tried to avoid it, first going to Sherwood, then Creswell but they were all rammed with people. I ended up driving up that road, and parking up. Her neighbour was in his garden and we spoke for ages. He has her cats (Molly has wandered off, just Cole left now) and was telling me about what had happened. They had no idea she’d died until they saw her mum, he told me what she said to him. Ready - this will make you gasp? She said to him flippantly “fourth time lucky”. This paints a picture of how they saw Florence, our beautiful, wonderful friend. It’s no wonder she stopped reaching out. The fact there’s not even a headstone for people to visit, says a lot too. A big fat line has been drawn under the life of someone who was uniquely amazing.
Even before Florence died, we were excluded from group activities. We had all discussed in the group about a spa day or going swimming. They went, we weren’t invited. How they spoke about others, I know that is the same treatment I got. And I got sucked into it too. Which is why I made sure I apologised to those people I’d wrongly judged on the say so of another’s opinion. You are complicit in this too Sz, you believed the worst about me, what was said about me and have barely spoken to me in all that time. This is why I am confused. I said to you last year “I didn’t think you loved me anymore” and I thought that we’d turned a corner, that we’d be proper friends again. Facebook interaction isn’t being friends. This is pre-covid too, yes, you’ve got a lot of personal stuff going on, the more reason to have a friend to talk to. It’s just not me because you stopped seeing me as a friend.
Friends for a season. Friends for a reason. Friends for ever more.
Yes, the gift cheered me up but then it plunged me into sadness, because I know that you stopped being my friend a long time ago. You believed the worst about me…. You probably still do. It hurts so much because there’s nothing that I can do about it. You weren’t there for me when I needed you. I really needed you to be my friend, I needed you all, to be the friends that I’d been for you but I was exiled instead.
It’s been nearly three years since Florence died. As she would say, “just let it go”. Orkney was the start; Lewis was the next part of that journey and now I feel strong enough to open up to you. I am not attacking you or accusing you of telling lies about me, you are a good person and someone I respect and love. I suppose what I am trying to say is, please don’t send me anything else unless you are going to make the effort to be friends again, like it was before, because it wounds me to my core. Friendship has to be nurtured and fed… this one has been starved of everything. We aren't those bears.
This fabulous mug can be found here and the artist's website
And as usual, up pops Florence on my playlist as I finish writing. 'I can never leave the past behind'. 'It's hard to dance with a devil on your back, so shake it off.' Okay Florence, will do!
