Bloggus Interruptus, or An Old Friend
So here I am again at the far edge of a several-weeks' break in posting... I hate it when that happens, but occasionally life just gets very, very full of Other Things!
I haven't finished my ongoing topic from late April yet, but today's post will be a short side-trip, because I want to talk about something that feels very current and present to me right now.
Today I am thinking a lot about an old friend I lost touch with some years back. I'll call her Sue... and if she ever reads this, she'll know why.
Our losing touch wasn't accidental. I stepped back from the friendship intentionally, in order to let her go her chosen way unimpeded. I tentatively and temporarily got back in touch with her several years ago just to see how she was doing, and it seemed that she had succeeded in her goal. But I can't help wondering if she's really happy.
I say "she" out of respect to the inner self she hesitantly chose to let me see, which did not match the hated male body. She was a very gentle, very troubled person, a fine musician, and a good friend, though in many ways a challenging one. She had suffered much abuse in her life, and in the end fell into becoming an abuser; by the time I met her, she had done her time and was working very hard on "fixing" her life. But a lot of what that "fixing" involved was fitting herself into the mold required by her church and her family, in order to be able to rejoin the fold. This felt desperately important to her, more important than her own internal truth.
And there I was encouraging her to be... well, herself. To trust her own sense of identity over anyone else's imposed limits and assumptions; to trust her own religious feelings over the dictates of any church. And that was in conflict with her goal... and the situation as a whole was very complicated... and she seemed to be asking me to step back. So I stepped back, and eventually stepped out of the picture entirely.
I don't know if I did the right thing. I thought it was, at the time. But every so often I think of her, and I wonder.
I miss her, and I wish I could share some of my joy with her - the joy of my transition, the joy of my loving community, the joy of becoming real, of my life opening up.
The other day on an internet search, I happened across a few pictures of my old friend, from some family event of several years ago. So familiar!
I remember the pain behind that quirky smile, and I can't help but assume that it's still there, in hiding.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she - maybe he - is thoroughly satisfied with the exchange that was chosen. After all, we all make exchanges in life. Nobody ever gets EVERYTHING they wanted.
But today I find myself praying - and I don't often pray - that if she ever needs the kind of friend that I can be, I'll be offered a second chance to be it.
Every so often I come across a little quartz figurine she gave to me, of an eagle with wings outstretched. She used to call me "the eagle" and ask when I would fly.
Old friend, if you ever read this... I'm flying now. The air is beautiful up here. And I still think of you.
May you find your wings, too. May we all. Oh, please, God, may we all!
I haven't finished my ongoing topic from late April yet, but today's post will be a short side-trip, because I want to talk about something that feels very current and present to me right now.
Today I am thinking a lot about an old friend I lost touch with some years back. I'll call her Sue... and if she ever reads this, she'll know why.
Our losing touch wasn't accidental. I stepped back from the friendship intentionally, in order to let her go her chosen way unimpeded. I tentatively and temporarily got back in touch with her several years ago just to see how she was doing, and it seemed that she had succeeded in her goal. But I can't help wondering if she's really happy.
I say "she" out of respect to the inner self she hesitantly chose to let me see, which did not match the hated male body. She was a very gentle, very troubled person, a fine musician, and a good friend, though in many ways a challenging one. She had suffered much abuse in her life, and in the end fell into becoming an abuser; by the time I met her, she had done her time and was working very hard on "fixing" her life. But a lot of what that "fixing" involved was fitting herself into the mold required by her church and her family, in order to be able to rejoin the fold. This felt desperately important to her, more important than her own internal truth.
And there I was encouraging her to be... well, herself. To trust her own sense of identity over anyone else's imposed limits and assumptions; to trust her own religious feelings over the dictates of any church. And that was in conflict with her goal... and the situation as a whole was very complicated... and she seemed to be asking me to step back. So I stepped back, and eventually stepped out of the picture entirely.
I don't know if I did the right thing. I thought it was, at the time. But every so often I think of her, and I wonder.
I miss her, and I wish I could share some of my joy with her - the joy of my transition, the joy of my loving community, the joy of becoming real, of my life opening up.
The other day on an internet search, I happened across a few pictures of my old friend, from some family event of several years ago. So familiar!
I remember the pain behind that quirky smile, and I can't help but assume that it's still there, in hiding.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she - maybe he - is thoroughly satisfied with the exchange that was chosen. After all, we all make exchanges in life. Nobody ever gets EVERYTHING they wanted.
But today I find myself praying - and I don't often pray - that if she ever needs the kind of friend that I can be, I'll be offered a second chance to be it.
Every so often I come across a little quartz figurine she gave to me, of an eagle with wings outstretched. She used to call me "the eagle" and ask when I would fly.
Old friend, if you ever read this... I'm flying now. The air is beautiful up here. And I still think of you.
May you find your wings, too. May we all. Oh, please, God, may we all!
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