A Friend’s Pain

Michele Grant aka @TheOneChele, novelist and creator of the Black ‘n Bougie blog, recently posted a series about a friend who caught her husband kissing another woman. The initial question posed was whether hubby’s claim that “a kiss isn’t cheating” was plausible. In a subsequent post, Grant informed her readers that her friend had chosen to forgive her husband and forget what she saw. Readers were asked whether or not the wife made the right decision.

Is a kiss cheating? It’s certainly not benign. If I caught my man kissing another woman, I would be deeply hurt. Could I forgive him? It depends. 

But it was this line from Grant’s post that gave me pause:

“If she’s happy, all I can do is be happy for her.”

I’ve uttered those words after watching girlfriends cry about lying, cheating, abusive partners, convincing everyone but themselves that they deserve better. And then stay in the dysfunctional relationship.

I said it because I felt that’s what I had to say to be a good friend. To show my friend that I wasn’t judging her. That I recognized her autonomy as an adult woman to make her own choices, and not to impose my beliefs on her.

That I had to love and support her choices, no matter what, because that’s what friends do.

I no longer feel that way.

Before I filed for divorce. I would cry to my friends about how miserably unhappy I was. I’d chronicle every fight, every dumb and offensive thing he said, every moment of feeling unappreciated and unloved.

My friends never told me I was crazy for staying. They never said, “Girl, get out!” The closest any of them came was to ask me, gently and politely, what I planned to do about being unhappy.

My mother gave me that much-needed kick. My parents never divorced, but theirs was a brutally unhappy marriage. When my mother told me I was describing her own marriage, I knew it was time to do something, to stop the cycle, because the last thing I wanted was to repeat the words, “you’re describing my marriage” to my own daughter.

After I filed for divorce, my friends spilled their guts in relief that I’d finally chosen to get out. They told me how hard it was to hear me repeat the same story, over and over and over again, across the years, but do nothing to free myself. They told me how hard it was to watch me self-destruct by overeating and no longer doing the things I used to love to do.

They told me I’d become barely recognizable and that they were glad to see “me” back.

But they said none of this in the eight years I was with my ex.

I asked them, “If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you say anything?”

“It wasn’t my place,” they responded.

Bullshit.

I am not blaming my friends for not telling me to leave my marriage. Staying was my choice. Leaving was also my choice. I stayed until I was ready to leave, and I left when I was ready to go.

We don’t live in our friends’ relationships. We don’t know when there’s still hope for someone else’s marriage, and when it’s time to get out and move on. Only the two people in the relationship can answer that question.

We can and do, however, form opinions based on what we observe and what we’re told. And when you see a friend drowning in misery, it’s dishonest to pretend to be happy and supportive of her decision to remain in the relationship that’s causing her so much pain.

You think she’s hurting herself by not leaving, which hurts you. But you know there’s only so much you can do to help her. You have your own life, maybe even your own dysfunctional relationship to deal with. 

So you cringe when she calls you. You side-eye her husband when she brings him to your events and you see her playing one-half of a happy couple. You begin to dislike him to the point that even the way he asks for a glass of water irritates you.

Your continued silence is damaging. You keep quiet because you’re afraid your friend will take offense. You keep your mouth shut to preserve the friendship. But instead, your true feelings become this big huge secret that drives a wedge between you.

So to all of you silently watching a friend suffer in a bad relationship: if she is truly a friend – if you really, truly care – speak up. Tell her how you feel. Maybe your worst fears will be realized, and she will cut you off. But maybe she’ll hear what you’re saying. Maybe your words will help empower her to take action – even if it’s not the action you think she should take. And maybe your friendship can recover.

The friendship may not, however, recover from your silence.