"I’m pretty sure that if you put a wig and googly eyes on a traffic cone, they’ll talk to it as much as they talked to me at the last rave," I confided in my husband.
He sighed, acknowledging his own struggles with our so-called friends. "It's not like they’re much better with crossing Republik escorts," he admitted. "They constantly talk about me behind my back."
"Yeah, but you’re a DJ. I don’t do anything but write about shows, and apparently, that doesn’t matter much to them," I lamented. "They don’t even try to talk to me."
"They’re not my friends."
"They made it clear they aren’t mine, either. I’m done, dude. I’m really, really done. I’m tired of trying to bend over backward for them. I don’t want to see them ever again."
Our conversation was a testament to the toxicity that had gradually seeped into our lives through these so-called friends. They had taken a toll on our mental well-being, causing frustration and heartache.
However, this revelation was just the tip of the iceberg. Little did I know that this would escalate into a narcissistic nightmare, making the years of emotional abuse at the hands of a covert narcissist seem milder. I was ill-prepared for the wrath of a narcissist's angered retribution.
One evening, as we struggled through a difficult week marked by the loss of a close friend and unforeseen circumstances preventing us from attending the funeral, our so-called friends failed us yet again. They couldn't provide the ride we desperately needed.
This was one of many instances where these friends had let me down when I needed them most. It seemed like the only time they came through was when drugs were involved.
To make matters worse, the person providing funeral information found my husband's recent scam amusing. They had been mocking him behind his back and had ignored me when I invited them over and prepared food for them.
I had reached my breaking point. I no longer wanted these people in my life. I was ready to sever all ties with them. Even though I had known most of them for years, ranging from five to 20, I was now officially breaking up with them.
People often talk about the things you miss after a breakup, whether you were the one ending the relationship or the one being left. They discuss the odd feeling of visiting a favorite restaurant without them or the sense of missing who you used to be when you were together.
I was feeling that loss intensely. A significant part of my identity had been intertwined with this music scene, which had progressively become toxic for me and my spouse. We discussed it often, expressing our sadness about how it had deteriorated.
Strangely, I found myself saying something I typically reserve for ugly breakups: "I want them to know how much they hurt me."
Do others feel this way? Do they wish they could make the person on the other side of the breakup truly understand and internalize the pain they've caused?
In the past, I would go to great lengths to explain my hurt, using every word in the dictionary to make them grasp it fully. There was an odd impulse within me to clarify how their actions were causing my distress, hoping they'd improve.
However, there comes a point in life when you must stop explaining yourself to people who have no interest in understanding you. I had reached that stage in this breakup.
The hardest part of a breakup, one that rarely receives attention, is realizing that they know they are hurting you, and they simply do not care. You cannot force people to care.
If someone genuinely cares that they are causing you pain, they will notice your anger and try to make amends, especially if you have openly communicated your hurt and desire for change.
The truth is, nothing I could do would make these people act decently toward me. Nothing I could say would transform them into the supportive friends I needed. Reciprocity had been absent for years.
I constantly questioned if they even wanted to be my friends. Were they just using me? Did they have any care or regard for me, or was I mistakenly believing they did?
I needed to stop asking myself these questions, and anyone else at this breakup stage should do the same. Moreover, stop explaining your hurt to disinterested individuals; they already know.
How do I know they know? It's simple: I asked myself if I would ever treat a friend the way they treated me. The answer was a resounding no. If I could recognize the toxicity and refuse to tolerate it, so could they. Besides, I had voiced my grievances many times.
At the end of the day, the unanswered questions don't matter. All I, or anyone else in a similar situation, can do is move forward and build a brighter future with those who genuinely care.
Reference:-
https://parvatipeaking.wordpress.com/2023/09/12/the-month-when-divorce-peaks-unraveling-the-reasons/
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