Simone de Rie, 23-11-1966, The Netherlands
I think friendships are complex, especially new ones later in life and more even if they come in a setting where collaboration is not simple but required. Friends have expectations, often unexpressed that become clearer and clearer over time, through experience and sometimes conflict. Often they turn out to be a discovery that evolves. If we are lucky over our lifetime and beyond. Work friendships may be the hardest of them all.
And yet…
They are one of my most significant sources of learning about relationships and myself.
I sit on my couch and walk through my garden, reflecting on the friends I made and the ones that I have lost over time as I left jobs. I can never tell when I am amid the messiness of separating whether the loss is temporary or permanent. But, as we know, sometimes conflict metastasises into hatred. It can be too terrifying to lean in and ask the real questions or have the resilience to sit through the pain of the friend that could be lost. In my case, often the second rather than the first. When listening, I feel the pull to argue and defend, even when I know it is better to be there for the pain my friend is going through.
Big career changes often sneak up on me. It is a theme throughout my career. Before the summer, all is well, and after the summer, nothing is. Promises are made and broken, feelings were hurt. Where close relationships existed and were cultivated in the course of a position, they may suddenly be lost after a short transition. Momentum changes, energy reorganizes, friends lose each other and are suddenly unable to find their way back. It feels hurtful and baffling when I look at how dramatic changes unfolded in the course of my career. We were all able to see, understand and work with each one of our complexities until we couldn’t. It’s been so interesting to see the separation unfold, and when I am willing to feel the pain, it’s like watching a movie repeatedly. I am still in the middle of the plot and every time I look at the film, I notice new scenes and backgrounds. My understanding grows and my perspective changes, moving closer and closer in. As much as I can and want to point at others, as my perspective turns inside, I can see where my blindspots have been and how they were experienced as disloyalty or loss of trust.
Separating hurts. It has great potential for adversity and negative emotions, like conflict, rejection, and in the best cases, misunderstanding. I feel grief and, hopefully, closure. Some farewells have promise and are filled with potential, but in this case, I do not know whether they will be broken or kept. It’s a whirlwind and an obstacle course. It feels like a minefield where limbs are scattered. Some are mine, but some are others and I know I caused those wounds when I do the autopsy of our friendship.
I am the kind of person that loves profoundly and does that as unconditionally as I can. I love my friends and will keep loving them, through conflict or when our relationship seems to end badly in this moment. If I look at my life, I see an endless string of people I am lucky enough to call my friends. I love them. When they come to me for something, I will be there, even when it has been weeks, months, or sometimes years since we were in touch. In most cases, we can pick right up where we left off. The feeling of the close connection we once shared will never leave me and in an instant, it comes back to life. I immediately see what I loved about our relationship, what I loved about that person before they faded away from my life.
I am also the kind of person that is highly sensitive, observant, easily irritated, and critical. Sometimes my friends faded away from me because of that. When I am under pressure, I criticise and am impatient. In my clumsiness trying to help the situation, I may say things that are too direct. In my desire to make a friend feel better, I may say something harsh about another friend. It may be truthful or my truth in that moment, but I am fully aware that that part of me makes someone uncomfortable or even angry. It’s why some friends fade away into the background of my life. Rightfully so.
And yet, even though I sometimes seem like a lousy friend, my unconditional love remains. Even if I piss you off. Complex and messy, huh? My friendships that live through conflict experience a deeper understanding and love, simply because, over time, we were both able to stay when it became hard.
So let’s talk about how human I am. I have a shadow side like anyone. Yes, you have one too. Like it or not, we all have one and most of us hide it for all we are worth. I don’t love that side of myself, so how can I expect others to love me when that shadow side is in plain sight? So I hide it. I know that’s not only true for me, often, we may believe we are all about unconditional love, either ignoring the challenges in our relationships or speaking about them too openly. The first is considered a good friend; the second one is not. And much of that is based on the social norms of work and friendship, not always because it is better for the friend or the relationship.
I am married to someone who loves me unconditionally. He knows my imperfections, accepts them and encourages me to embrace them. He stays. It’s a unique experience for me that someone loves me this completely. Showing him fully who I am without defense mechanisms is really, really hard. Society has not prepared me for that. I have been programmed to adjust to others’ expectations for a really long time, and losing that protective shell is pretty hard work, I find. Especially because I don’t fully see or know what’s in those shadows myself. Some of them are in my blind spot that I only see through his eyes, not through my own. My eyes are connected to my brain and my brain has been conditioned, which hampers my ability to see.
And that is the truth with my friendships too. I prefer to make someone else responsible when there is a problem. I can see someone else’s shadow side so much more clearly than our own, especially when I am rushed or stressed. It’s much more comfortable to look at your flaws than mine. It allows me to stay out of the mental and emotional gym trying to figure out what I did to end up at this juncture in our relationship. It’s almost easier to lose a friend than to deal with the fear of losing myself, staring into the abyss that is made up of my bad behaviors. So we stay in the illusion that the other is at fault, even though it’s never as simple as that.
As it is time to look at the past years, I sit down with a cup of tea to feel all the feelings I want to avoid. I wrestle with and contemplate on my working relationships that show me where I am at fault and where I try to avoid feeling my guilt and shame. I look at my impatience, my criticism of others, my desire to rescue, my ego, the irresistible pull of wanting to blame others, the seduction of wanting to make my part smaller than it is. I reflect on the patterns that have already existed for a long time, and while I see that I have become better, I see what remains. I feel my shame and my guilt, I nurture the child in me that wants to be seen, heard, and understood. It’s yucky and messy, making me feel pretty bad. And so I learn.
Most of my friendships return to me at some point in my life. People don’t remain lost forever as my friends. It may take days or weeks, sometimes months or years, but our common thread and the things we did together that felt right seem to win from the adversity or pain. Often, I find that my friend also found the courage to look inside to find their own sensitivities, programming and complexities. I know they were, are, and will be my friends for a reason, because I love and recognise their humanness. It is my hope for all of us that we walk through the abyss, finding more freedom in this messy path of self-reflection and discovery. So that we remember who we forgot to be in the midst of the every day doing while achieving our goals.
It reminds me of how my husband ended our relationship once, after about ten weeks. He felt it was better that way. Initially, I was furious and deeply sad. In my mind, he was doing this TO me. I felt like the victim and could think of a thousand reasons why I was. I remember how I wanted to hurt him with my words from a place of deep pain and loss. But once I calmed down enough, I thought about what a great person he is and how I did not want to lose him from my life. Perhaps he did not want to be my boyfriend, but I thought he might still want to be my friend. So that same evening, I sat on my balcony in my big outdoor chair. It was August and the evening was balmy and warm. I gathered up all of my courage, letting go of my fear of being rejected (again) and called him to ask: “How does this work? Am I no longer part of your life? Am I no longer allowed to call you? Cause I like you and I enjoy being with you. Not being in touch with you feels like the wrong outcome of our story.” I am not sure I remember his response, just his laugh and the feeling I had during that conversation. He did not make my fear come true, but welcomed me and we stayed in touch, slowly drifting back into our relationship with a new and probably better foundation.
My dearest friend, past, current or future, in work and in life, I love all of you. When I don’t behave like your perfect friend, I apologise for that. I wish I were your perfect friend, but I am human and full of conditioning, shadows and imperfections. Our friendship has brought me further on my journey edging me closer to my potential and I thank you for that. When you are ready to let me back into your home and your heart let us continue our journey in a new way. A way that feels good to you and also to me, shadows welcomed and included.
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