Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. So the saying goes. If you’ve read my earlier story (“What Would You Do?”), you will know how Vera fooled me into believing she was a real friend. After that debacle, when Vera was in trouble, I still considered helping her. I listened to her, gave her moral support, and yet something stopped me short from doing more. I wondered if I had done the right thing. Last week, she proved to me that I had been right.
My sister fell terribly ill last week, and she was admitted to the ICU. Although there was no danger of death, she was in agonizing pain, and we had no idea when she would leave the ICU, let alone go home. I live a million miles away from her (okay, not literally, but it feels like it). I took leave from work, and I drove out to help her and her family. When I left, I had to cancel a ton of appointments. One of them happened to be dinner with Vera and a mutual friend.
I sent Vera a quick message: “My sister is in the ICU, I’m driving to Frankfurt tonight to help her kids. I’m going to have to miss dinner with you and Amy on Saturday. Sorry.” I got a reply that Vera was sorry to hear that, and that she hoped my sister would get better soon. So far, so good.
Then came Saturday afternoon. I was in the ICU with my sister, who was screaming in pain, and my phone beeped. I had a message: “Hey girl, I hope you and your sis are okay. Could you send me Amy’s phone number? I can’t seem to find it.” At first, I wasn’t sure if I was reading it right. I mean, why would she send me a message asking for a lousy phone number, when she knew that my sister was in the ICU? Especially, when she and Amy have at least four mutual friends who she could have gotten the number from? Then it dawned on me: I was reading it right. Vera was indeed bothering me, during a nightmarish time, with her ridiculous request. She was so self-involved, she probably couldn’t even see that what she was doing wrong.
I read an article here on DivineCaroline a while ago called “Friends Are Like Shoes.” Since reading that, I am no longer holding on to these “dead weights,” as I am calling them. I am letting them go. I have refrained from talking about what Vera did to anyone (well, I told my fiancé and my mom, but I don’t think they count), and I would never harm her deliberately. But in my heart, I no longer hold a place for her. Using the metaphor from the article I read: Vera has been uncomfortable for far too long, and I am not going keep trying to excuse and bear with the pain.
I’ve also realized that by holding on to these uncomfortable shoes, I’ve been depriving myself of the opportunity to wear and value shoes that are more comfortable and provide me with positive feelings.
Let it go. Let go of those that hold you down, and hang on to those that encourage you to fly so high.
