My Peeps
My squad did not come together overnight; it is decades in the making, sprinkled with thousands of tests along the journey. Words sometimes spoken out of turn, hurt feelings, disappointments, tears, and forgiveness. But mainly, my tribe is a compilation of pure joy. They are the foundation of my being. They offer support and stability. When life attacks, it’s good to know who your people are.
When a tribe member chooses to pull back, it makes me feel restless. When one of my peeps is processing pain and pushing me away, it makes me feel helpless. How am I supposed to be there for someone who is slowly cutting me off? I know it is not personal. She hurts; I get it. She is building a protective layer; I see that. She is lost, and she alone must find her way back; I get that too.
But as she gets further away, I weep for my girl. She does not have the energy to be my friend, preoccupied with her agony. I know it’s selfish, but I miss my friend. We have a pact. There are rules of engagement. She is unable to live up to her end.
So, how long do I stick around when a friendship is slipping away?
Drifting
Drifting she is, alone on a raft. I keep my eyes on her, she's getting further away. Suffering in silence. I know this; I am the keeper of her secret. I want to do, to be, to give, to help. I don't. Space is what she seeks. The waves get rough; she may drown. I watch from the shoreline; quicksand under my feet; I am stuck, if I go after her, she will drift further away, I don't move, I can't lose sight of her. She is fragile. Patience, I breathe. Silent prayer, find your way back, friend. A glimpse of hope. She attempts to get back to shore, to be present, to be happy. She picks up the broken pieces; they are heavy, but she's trying to rebuild them. The more she tries, the more she realizes the pieces don't fit like they used to. She bends and prods, to no avail. Tears. Heartbreak again, a million little pieces; the heaviness is hard to sustain. I want to jump in; let me paddle for you. You are too close; you can't see beyond the horizon. I can. To tell her, dump the broken pieces in the ocean, let them go; you are carrying dead weight, it's holding you prisoner. Start building anew; new moments… it's the only way back. I don't. Silent prayer, may she drift safely back to shore.
Gotcha
This, of course, is not so easy. Letting go of the broken pieces represents a lifetime of dreams that no longer is. This is to mourn. I can’t fix or make her grief disappear, nor can I put a time limit on it.
Yet, through it all, one thing is for sure, the answer to my question is easy. I will stick around as long as it takes. After all, it is our unspoken pact, no matter what, a sisterhood. She is precious, a rare diamond; I fasten my lifejacket, grab an extra one and swim to her, not to save her, but to remind her, I gotcha, girl!
