Dear Friends,
I’ve agonized over whether or not I should write to you. I’ve slept on it for a full two weeks and have composed multiple drafts only to throw them all away. Wondering if a conversation might be a better approach, I’ve picked up and put down my phone so many times over these weeks, I am reminded of all the times I dialed my high school boyfriend and hung up on him after he broke up with me. And you all know how sensitive I am about that even today…because YOU KNOW ME.
But, the niggling at the back of my brain is still there, not letting go. I need to say something and address, for better or worse, what I experienced when we all last spoke. It’s a risk, and you know how much I avoid confrontation, because YOU KNOW ME, which, as it turns out, is my point.
First, I need to apologize for exiting our Zoom call without warning and for not explaining why until now. I was so excited to see all of you and to catch up, but when the conversation headed toward what I like to call “politicovid,” a combination of forces much like snowmageddon and sharknado, I grew apprehensive. I still hear my Nana’s voice in my head saying, “Sex, politics and religion are topics not to be discussed in polite conversation.” I know the state of the world around us is important and I do know that a discussion about it is inevitable. Perhaps I was naive in believing it could all be avoided, or if it came up, we could all manage the intricate choreography, but I never envisioned it leading to where it did.
I exited the call not because my mom was on the other line and needed me as I’d said. I exited because I was afraid I’d say something from which I might never recover. We’ve all been there; in friendships, and especially in our own marriages. There’s a precipice we’re all intimate with; we recognize all of it’s dangerous edges, the slight drop off that leads to the very narrow alley, where there is just enough space to turn around, or we keep going, to the tiny ledge at the end, only to fall, skidding and crashing onto sharp shards of rock all the way down to a messy, bloody and, oftentimes, unfixable heap. I’ve arrived on that precipice many times over the years, and many times I’ve made it all the way to the end of the alley where slowly and carefully, I’ve always turned around. I am always relieved and grateful when I choose to make the turn and head back to stable ground because I can recover from some scratches and a bruised ego, but the bloody heap at the bottom looks pretty devastating. The other night, I exited the call just as I began my turnaround at the end of that alley. I didn’t need to make a scene, slam doors or walk out. Instead, I could hit the“leave” button and, although part of me wanted to stay, with a simple click, I was gone.
So, why venture back down that alley? I think it’s because I need to say some things and I want to try to understand why some of you said what you did. I’m hurt, sad and, honestly, pretty pissed off. I’m confused and wrapped up in frustration at you for your words, and at mad at myself and for others who I know felt the same way, for not standing up in the moment; for not asking those elementary questions then.
Who do you think you’re talking to?
How dare you?
I think it’s safe to say we’ve all uttered these words at some point in time. I still picture doing so with each of my three teenagers when I could not believe the disrespect coming from their obnoxious, ungrateful, yet still adorable mouths. They would huff and stare at me as I screamed, “Well, just who do you think you’re talking to? I am your mother, damn it! Do you have any idea what I’ve done for you? How dare you?” Reluctantly, but inevitably, they backed down, because, at the heart of it, they did know me; they knew I loved them, had their best interests at heart, and understood that there are precipices in life. They might disagree with me and be angered by me, but they also recognized that I deserved their respect and that they loved me.
Evidenced by the other night, some of you are angered by some of my views, or even by my lack of having a viewpoint on some issues. I get that. I disagree with some of you on a variety of topics and some of your views bewilder me. But, not once in our conversation did I call you a name or question your values because, although we don’t see everything the same way, that doesn’t change the fact that I KNOW YOU.
When you and your husband went out of the country, your babies were entrusted to me. I cared for them as if they were my own. I held your hand when you buried your mom, cooked your meals when you underwent chemo. I met you at the hospital when John needed stitches, or Lisa broke her ankle, or Christian got a concussion playing lacrosse. We have spent countless hours and holidays in each other’s homes; our lives intertwined, raising our children. We’ve run PTA’s, food drives, school fundraisers, gone to battle with school boards over bad teachers and cleaned up each other’s vomit. I know intimate details of most of your lives and I trust you with my children. You and your families are in all of my home videos, and part of all of our family memories, and yet, suddenly, I’m unworthy. Today, I’m dishonorable, immoral. Now, I’m just stupid and wrong.
And so I ask, “Who do you think you’re talking to? How dare you?”
I am your friend, your champion, your babysitter, confidante and memory keeper. I always will be, because I KNOW YOU. I may not agree with you, but, at your core, who you are is precious to me. I pray that you can see through whatever our differences are and remember who you are talking to, because I think I deserved better than what I got from many of you the other night. To the others that remained on the call and that I know felt the same way as I did, I’m sorry I didn’t make it all the way down the alley. I chickened out, but I hate confrontation, but you already knew that because, YOU KNOW ME.
I’m hoping you remember that. I love you.
Leslie
*A note to readers: This Zoom call is fiction, written as a representation of a variety of interactions I and others I know have experienced either face-to-face or through social media. I have found that the lack of civility and kindness between friends has been the most disheartening and most confusing of all of it. We know our friends and they know us. It’s time to start acting like it. “Politicovid” is no reason to mistreat others. Before you respond in person or through social media, I beg you to ask yourself, “Who do you think you’re talking to? How dare you?” Kindness always wins and when it does, we all do. Watch out for those precipices…