On Sisterhood, Friendship Loss, And The Women We Become — Part I

Can we talk about friendship breakups?

On Sisterhood, Friendship Loss, And The Women We Become is a series exploring the grief of losing friendships and the power that sisterhood and community has in shaping us as women.

Girlfriends.

Society doesn’t really make room for the grief of friendship loss. We tell ourselves to move on quickly, to not admit our hurt because it is a sign of weakness. We tell ourselves that there are more people to find — and true as that may be, I believe it’s necessary to allot ourselves time and space to grieve friendships we truly valued, people we cared about and prided ourselves on showing up genuinely for.

Within the first part of this series,

Ashleigh Vaughn

and I share our experiences of friendship loss. The beautiful thing is that Ashleigh and I saw ourselves within each other’s stories, and I’m grateful to her for sharing this writing space with me and this reading space with you all.

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Roots & Branches

Mariah Maddox

I can only speak from my perspective, from my experience. There are always multiple sides to any story, and everyone has their own truth. This is mine. I must also take into consideration my experience of navigating friendships as a mother and a wife, with particular circumstances that everyone may not be aware of or understanding of.

Think of yourself as a tree. Your roots, your branches, your leaves/flowers/fruit. Now visualize all of your external relationships as part of your tree. Some people are roots —they are your anchors and grow with you through any stage of life, remaining through any season. Others are leaves/flowers/fruit — they come and go through different seasons. Though there may be periods of absence, you know that they’ll return again as though they never left. And lastly, some people are branches — they break off when their time with you has come to an end.

My therapist had me do this visualization during one of our sessions a while ago, and it really put some things into perspective for me. Friendship breakups can be hard to navigate because people we assumed to be roots actually turned out to be branches. While for some time they provided structural support, they eventually stopped aiding in our growth — and when we expect people to be in our lives forever, this truth can sting.

Last year I experienced the loss of a long-term friendship, one that had lasted over a decade — one that, from my perspective, was genuine and pure-hearted. As many losses tend to happen, it was abrupt and I didn’t see it coming. Though now with the knowledge that I have, all the signs were pointing to everything that was there. What seemed fine to my eyes was actually eroding beneath the surface for a while.

The words of their mouths were smooth as butter, yet war was in their heart. Their words were softer than oil, yet they were drawn as swords (Psalms 55:21). This verse sums up the entirety of what I felt unfolded. To my knowledge, everything was fine. But beneath the surface, this person was at war in their heart with me, and my lack of awareness to this left me unable to stop the eruption that ended in me not hearing from them again. This friendship had already become a battlefield, yet I had no idea of it. Over 10 years of time, love, laughter, tears, becoming mothers, and so much more shared together — and I never heard from her again.

I acknowledge that even though this is my truth, there’s also a truth that I likely stopped serving that friend in the way she needed community and support at the time. I was showing up with what I had to give in that season of my life, but perhaps it wasn’t in the way that she needed. Had I been given an opportunity to know and navigate that before everything happened, I know that I would have without hesitancy — and with grace and understanding.

As someone who takes pride in how I care for people and knows myself to be a genuine friend, for the longest I walked in the image of who she painted me out to be — jealous, unsupportive, the list goes on. This is not to say that I am without flaw. As I stated in the beginning, everyone has their truth, but my truth is knowing that there was never a moment I intentionally showed up in such a way, and sometimes our perceptions of how people are is a product of what we think of ourselves or things that are going on within our own lives (projecting). And even if that is not the case, sometimes our perceptions are just flat-out wrong.

I initially blamed myself for missing the signs of hurting someone so close to me and not being aware that I was doing so. But at a certain point, I realized that I had to lay that burden down. As

Ashley Abercrombie

stated, I’ve done enough healing now to know that it is not my job to coax grown folks to use their words and there are times when the truth is not reciprocal; I am weary of relationships where I am forced to be the only one who will raise the thing sitting silently between us.

In laying that burden down, I realized that her perception of me is not my truth. Her perception of me is not who I am. I can confidently say this — while at the same time taking responsibility for my own shortcomings and the role I played in our friendship ending. And the hardest pill to swallow is that I could not fight to make her see any different. Her mind was made up — and it had been for a long time prior to the friendship actually ending. For a while in the grieving process, I was seeing myself as how she saw me. I knew that I had entered a turning point in my healing when I allowed that to be her narrative without taking it on as my identity.

I’ve come to terms with the loss of this friendship and have even found beauty in it. I’ve also realized that though losing the friendship hurt, it was for a reason — and in more ways than one, for my betterment, unknowingly. Admitting that doesn’t take away from the love that was shared during the time of our friendship. How the friendship ended doesn’t take away from the love and good times that were shared — at least not from my end.

What I take from this experience (aside from the constant fear of people harboring ill feelings towards me unknowingly😅) is checking in with the people in my life, asking if I am showing up how they need me to and, if not, how I can show up better. I’ve also taken the truth that it is important to share with your friends what you expect/need/require from them — the same way that we do in our romantic relationships.

And lastly, I’ve taken away that even with the pain of losing a branch that was once a part of me, this tree that I am is still strong, wonderful, beautiful, and fruitful. As

Ruth Noemi Bendel

wrote, life shapes us differently, and that is OK.

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A Time For Loss

Ashleigh Vaughn

“One too many little white lies that were dismissed as ‘not big deals at the time’ now stand as collective evidence for why she doesn’t feel this friendship can continue. What feels to me like a sudden rupture in our friendship, has actually been a slow, gradual, and painful tear that has ended in separation. Whether this is temporary or indefinite, I can’t answer that. And that makes me want to fight. For the friendship? No, I’m past the point of unsuccessfully seeking answers. The best friend? Absolutely. I almost put ‘former’ there but that still felt too unreal. Hello Denial, I think you already know Anger. He’s here too.”

The pandemic was a time for loss in so many major ways for me, friendship being one of them. Several of my close friendships dissolved right before, and during, that time. Most were dissolutions waiting to happen, but one in particular seemed to blindside me. Of all the friendships that ended, this was one I would’ve never put money on happening.  My best friend, my person, my Other Half, my daughter’s god mother. We’re coming up on a year of the beginning of the end and to this day, I still have more questions than answers.

The other day, I found myself heartbroken and sad over the loss of our friendship. I began to feel anxiety and dread thinking about all of my close family and friends and wondered if any harbored any ill feelings or resentment towards me that they haven’t shared. I texted a good portion of them, reminding them that I love them and letting them know that if they ever feel the opposite, they should tell me. I just don’t want to suffer a loss this great again if I can help it. 

I’m visiting the city she lives in soon and I am both excited and nervous. This is the first time in at least twelve years that I’ve visited and not seen her. Even if she wasn’t the reason for my trip there, we made sure to make time to at least lay eyes on one another even if just for a quick moment. My heart is heavy and divided. Because of our individual and collective life choices, we’re no longer apart of each other’s life and that pains me. Sometimes in thoughts of her I forget how to breathe and don’t realize I’ve been holding my breathe until I inevitably exhale. As much as I wish I could just forget it all, she still means the world to me, and I care deeply about her life and what she had and has going on. I can’t help but long to be a part of her intimate space and life, and that longing hurts physically some days. 

As painful as our separation has been, my eyes have been opened to just how codependent our connection was. I now realize that our dependence on one another likely hindered our individual growth in some areas that was pivotal for the current season of our lives.

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Here are a few other pieces that talk about navigating the challenges of friendship and friendship loss that I truly adore and have served as a guide along the way:

• Ashley Simpo
  ’s Homegirls: The Role of Grace in Friendships with Women, Femmes, and Mothers

• Ruth Noemi Bendel
  ’s Friends are not forever, and that is OK

• Ashley Abercrombie
  ’s The last meal we ever shared

• Alex Elle
  ’s Reflections on Reciprocity

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More From This Series:

Part II: Seasons of Interludes and Rediscovery

On Sisterhood, Friendship Loss, And The Women We Become — Part II