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In a Party-pooper Mood
An Essay About Friendship By Jenn Director Knudsen
on the condition we not tell one soul.
While curable, the disease is insidious, and the way to rid the body of it is horrid. This fiercely independent woman acknowledged she might need a lot of support at this surreal juncture in her life; we of course agreed to provide whatever she needed.
For me, that included wanting to drive her to a hospital for a pre-treatment procedure in lieu of her other option: taking a cab to the specialist's.
But I had to arrange for childcare in order to meet this friend's need. I divulged her coveted secret to my babysitter, who is, in fact, my own mother. The moment this betrayal left my lips I knew I should have kept it to myself, even in these circumstances.
But I also believed my friend, being a friend, would understand and forgive me my trespass. So in the interest of honesty and full disclosure, I told my friend.
I don't regret that I was honest with my hurting, angry friend. But I sure lament that she believed our friendship to be irreparably damaged. About a week after my admission to her, she wrote me a lengthy e-mail, tearing apart our relationship.
In the aftermath, sides were taken, allegiances were declared and the group friendship also perished. And, certainly, we no longer organize playdates for the kids, who are now 5 years old.
I didn't realize until the friendship with the one woman and with the group was gone and buried just how frequently I thought of them and doing things with and for them. There will be no birthday gifts or celebrations for these women this year. Nor will they be reciprocating for me.
Suddenly, I found myself as emotionally isolated as I was in the postpartum period after my first daughter was born. I now have two children. Living emotionally at the bottom of a pit is hard indeed, especially with two very young, very needy children to love and care for.