The Story Left Untold

DISCLAIMER: This post mentions domestic abuse. If that is a sensitive subject for you, please exit. I’ll see you next week. ♡

Before we continue, please do not interpret my words in today’s post as bitter, self righteous, convicting or condescending. I am simply making my inner narrative public, and I hold no anger or judgement in my heart. Like all situations in life, there are MULTIPLE sides to a story, and I am only sharing one.

“Speak your truth and let your heart be heard, for even disaster is beautiful when it is pure.”

I never planned on sharing this story. I wanted to keep it buried and suffocate it in the darkness.

But now that the years have passed, and our story has run cold, I feel compelled to share MY narrative. 

Several years ago I was quickly kicked out of a close friend’s life because I told them their boyfriend was harmful. Toxic. My intention was never to break them up. I just wanted to extend a helping hand. I thought that our friendship meant something, but it held as much weight as a teardrop in the ocean.

I had watched their heart shatter too many times, and I was running out of glue to put it back together. My friend deserved safety, love, happiness and peace. Not bruises, lies and empty promises.

My failed attempt at saving them transpired into the death of our friendship. They left California, and took my sunshine with them.

I considered this person one of my best friends. I would have moved mountains for them, and my concern only came from the purest kind of love. I just wanted them to be happy and SAFE.  

Could I have articulated my words better? Yes.

Should I have approached the situation with more empathy? Yes.

Do I regret speaking up? NO. 

I spent so much time regretting my candor, and the guilt that followed ripped me in two.   

If you know someone is abusing your closest friend, are you TRULY their friend if you turn a blind eye to it?  Can you smile nonchalantly while you watch them dance with the devil? Can you sleep at night knowing they aren’t safe? If something ever happened to them, could you live with yourself?

I know I’m not the only one who has watched a sisterhood crumble after speaking the truth out of love. Sometimes we choose to remain quiet in order to save face, but that can quickly turn you into a martyr. 

Typically, I am non-confrontational, and enjoy staying in my own lane. I cherish my inner peace more than anything, and that leaves zero room for judgement. Forcing my opinion is NOT my style whatsoever. One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone is blunt and aggressive with their words. Especially when they excuse their behavior by saying “I’m just honest”. No, you’re just rude. If you’re a kind, compassionate human, that’s good enough for me. I happily avoid debates over politics, religion, money and petty drama… But something that I KNOW is hurting a loved one… I’ll scream it from the mountain tops.  

Bringing this trauma to the light will probably backfire, and your words will be taken as a threat. You will be perceived as judgmental, hypocritical, intolerant, selfish, and a fake friend. They will go out of their way to cling to those that whisper sweet validations in their ears and rub it in your face.  You will be made into the enemy, and for a short while, you will feel like the enemy.

I couldn’t win. I only had two options: Kindly and gently share my concern for their well being, but risk losing them forever. Or remain silent, and continue to watch them suffer.

Instead of giving this individual the power to rot my bones, I chose to see the situation from a new perspective.  After all, point a finger, and you will find three pointing right back at you.

It wasn’t an easy journey to find clarity in the heartbreak.  I’m now mature enough to reflect, and see the blessings in the chaos. If I held my tongue, it may have temporarily kept the peace, but they would’ve left me eventually. Ignoring my conscience would have simply delayed the inevitable. I suppose I should be thankful for their abandonment because it forced me to grow, and face demons that I ignored for far too long. Being rejected by someone so near and dear launched me onto a better path.

I made new friends and embraced new adventures.  Adventures that were only made possible by them leaving.  

Did I spend months desperately wishing that I had them back? Sure. But after a while, I discovered redemption and hope in the unknown.

There are still some times that my heart aches to meet for coffee, and I long to bask in the warmth and comfort of nostalgia. In my weakest moments, I crave the days when our loyalty remained unbroken.

Most of my posts have some sort of conclusion or happy ending. You will not find that type of closer today. My scattered writing drips with the same conflict that clogs my heart. The way our story ended still haunts my subconscious, and while I stand behind my decision, I will always miss them.

Turning my pain into art and forcing it to have texture is the only action that truly helps me move on. If you have ever been in a similar situation or dealt with unanswered questions, I urge you to give your feelings physical form. Journaling, painting, drawing, photography… it will help put the pieces together, and ease the discomfort.

The story left untold has now been told, and I’m finally free.

All my love,