I wonder about the Art of Making new friends, and does this change from when we are small children, what are our needs or requirements in wanting to spend time with each other? How do we connect and then want to connect again or what makes us decide we no longer are interested in knowing more or finding a new depth in being acquaintances? Is this a mutual dance, or can one person decide they have gone far enough and no longer are interested?
Is there ever an adult mutal exploring dialogue that goes on where you share differing views and opposing insights, and then in a almost friendly manner, say "Oh, we don't match enough for there to be common ground for us to play on...."
In my experience, silence is my first red flag, that something is amiss. Silence without an explaination.
When I walked out on my mother, I knew that we had reached a fork in the road, and that neither of us were willing to join the other's path, and parting seemed natural.
There was a clear and obvious difference, that neither of us could articulate at the time; but it was being played out in reality and the split was there in all its glory. No words or fancy phrases, quotes or past sentiments could cover it up.
A split, a crevice opened up and swallowed what had been...what was before was no more...in its place was two ladies responding and reacting totally different to one man's abuse.
This gigantic and obvious space didn't allow for small chit chat or table talk, it overtook us and wiped out our past relationship, leaving in its place, estrangement.
I had similar splits with most of my siblings, where my responses and theirs stood a world apart, setting me on a pathway that would no longer converge with theirs, for I now we heading in a totally new direction for me.
My changing has also cooled other friendships, for what had bound us together was our similarities.
It seems like a natural separation, where neither one has to voice words or have lengthy conversations, but each feel more comfortable in the drifting away.
In the past, I may have overlooked many red flags that popped up early, but now I honor each flag that rises, each response that is made is showing me who they are. I no longer fight and push flags down, nor demand more then they have to give...nor will I stay for the potential of what may someday arise...I allow them the freedom to be...which in turn gives me freedom to let go.
It is the old adage, "Birds of a feather flock together."
I wonder if we have a subconscious checklist, and we go along until we hit a spot where we no longer match, which tells us our feathers don't match...we don't belong to the same bird.
And I wonder how many birds there are to belong to?
I believe we can boil it down to just two birds.
Birds of truth and Birds of fiction.
I was taught to fly as a bird of fiction, that in order to be loved and for their to be peace in my family home, I had to not show my broken feathers...
I fit into a flock of pretenders...until all my lies and pretending came home to roost. It was then I realized there was and is only one bird in our family. The bird of abuse...no matter how much we didn't talk about it, or act like it, we still couldn't pull off a new bird.
It was when I stopped pretending that the split happened...and I began flying with the bird of truth.
