My question today is "when is ending a friendship the right thing to do?".
I am blessed in that I have always had friends I can talk about anything with. A select sub-set of these I can say anything to, confident that they always know it comes from love and companionship. I know I can laugh, cry, sympathise with and argue against with these friends, confident that any misunderstandings will be quickly addressed and put aside. These friends I love with all my heart.
Then there are the fair weather friends. Those that can always be counted on to be around in good times, but have a habit of disappearing during the bad ones. Or those you always have to be a little wary of saying what's really on your mind with. Maybe those that never deliver on their promises. I find these friends acceptable strangely enough. It's an honest situation; I know where I stand with them.
It's what to do about those friends who change over time into something you no longer recognise that I struggle with. Adversity can bring the worst out in all of us. I'm as guilty as the next of snapping at a loved one when I'm in pain and unable to vocalise my misery. Thanks to a special few, I'd like to think that I've improved in this respect over the years, but I know I still do it from time to time.
I'm not talking about the emotional vampires either. They show their true colours soon enough and I have a ruthless streak in me that terminates such relationships pretty quickly, albeit by simply vanishing into the woodwork. No, it's those that seem to metamorphose into a different person. Sometimes this seems to be the result of them becoming involved in a damaging relationship or developing an addiction. Other times, you wonder if the side you are now seeing was always there and you were simply blind to it.
It's natural I think, to try to help at first, to be patient and understanding even when they cut you to the core. At what point do you say enough is enough however? I guess if I were a better, kinder person, I'd keep trying but when trying becomes self-damaging, what then? When the lying becomes entrenched and the hypocrisy level becomes unsupportable?
I want to tell it like it is but I know my words would go unheard.
So, my now former friend, this is goodbye. Two years is long enough. My only regret is that I couldn't be a better friend and stay until you loved yourself again.
Saturday, 30 October 2010
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Terry Pratchett - Shaking Hands with Death
I watched my mother's mother take 15 years to die of Alzheimer's disease.
In that time, Nan went from being simply absent minded to a walking corpse, devoid of everything that had defined her as a woman. In some ways, this end phase was a relief... she wasn't there any more. In others, it was like watching a continuous loop of film showing a horrific car crash, especially when you observed the effect on her primary carer, her husband, my step-grandfather. A man who largely saw it as his exclusive duty to do everything for his wife, taking full physical, emotional and fiscal burdens in the process.
For me, the greatest pain was the mid-phase of her last illness. In the blink of an eye, she would go from being an unknowing mute to fully aware of the incomprehensibility and horror of her situation and back again. In that moment, I would see Edvard Munch's The Scream; her agony and terror being writ that large in her eyes.
The 2010 Richard Dimbleby Lecture given by Terry Pratchett as read by Tony Robinson was broadcast by the BBC this evening. His lecture explored how modern society needs to redefine how it deals with death. The dignity and passion I witnessed had me in tears of admiration.
Anyone who has been in my Grandfather's position will have had nightmares concerning their own possible demise and wanted the ability to instruct family, friends and medical professionals to do their utmost to prevent such an end.
Sir Terence defined my views on the right to chose a better death in a way I've struggled to perfect for years. This lecture may just be his definitive work.
My mother may have trumped him for brevity: "If I am ever in the same situation, for God's sake, shove a pillow over my face".
In that time, Nan went from being simply absent minded to a walking corpse, devoid of everything that had defined her as a woman. In some ways, this end phase was a relief... she wasn't there any more. In others, it was like watching a continuous loop of film showing a horrific car crash, especially when you observed the effect on her primary carer, her husband, my step-grandfather. A man who largely saw it as his exclusive duty to do everything for his wife, taking full physical, emotional and fiscal burdens in the process.
For me, the greatest pain was the mid-phase of her last illness. In the blink of an eye, she would go from being an unknowing mute to fully aware of the incomprehensibility and horror of her situation and back again. In that moment, I would see Edvard Munch's The Scream; her agony and terror being writ that large in her eyes.
The 2010 Richard Dimbleby Lecture given by Terry Pratchett as read by Tony Robinson was broadcast by the BBC this evening. His lecture explored how modern society needs to redefine how it deals with death. The dignity and passion I witnessed had me in tears of admiration.
Anyone who has been in my Grandfather's position will have had nightmares concerning their own possible demise and wanted the ability to instruct family, friends and medical professionals to do their utmost to prevent such an end.
Sir Terence defined my views on the right to chose a better death in a way I've struggled to perfect for years. This lecture may just be his definitive work.
My mother may have trumped him for brevity: "If I am ever in the same situation, for God's sake, shove a pillow over my face".
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