You would think that after 30 years after high school, the ‘making friends’, or the ‘relationship’ thing would be solidified. In your 40’s you would be able to discern fake from real… then after the pain of realizing there are people that pose as friends and are parasitical in nature, you are reminded it isn’t you, it’s them.
Here’s the story of 4 individuals that wore the ‘I care about you’ mask just to get what they could from me.
They differed in how long they were in my circle but all four served themselves by having me in theirs.
Despite the tale, I am about to share, thanks to my sense of self I have forgiven them and have excommunicated them from my journey. I share this to assist my students and/or the readers to believe their instincts. You have done little to no wrong, you tried, you cared, you demonstrated compassion and humanity and you will be blessed; just because anyone took advantage does not mean and will never mean you should CHANGE your character.
Continue to give, love, care, and serve yet LEARN from your experiences and LEARN to discern.
Not all that come in peace, want peace for you.
Friendships consist of sharing intimate details, and in my experience, it is to reveal your vulnerabilities in the hopes that the person you are revealing them to, will empathize, understand and care. Then thereafter it evolves into continued sharing, and continued communication as evidence of caring and inclusion because of the ‘care’ factor. It is never to reciprocate TANGIBLE outcomes but to receive the same.
For a reason:
This person sought a position where I worked and used me as the ‘link’ to enter. They were present to collect information. They shared their vulnerabilities, their failed marriage, their separation from their child, and pseudo attachment to their roots, as a way to create comfort and connection, to a new position that would serve as an escape to their ‘jailhouse’ dynamic to their partner. At the multiple times they were present, I shared. Remember my definition of friendship, I believed this person cared about ME, not my position, not what I could provide but who I am as a person to them. Despite the many voices that alerted me to doubt and be suspicious of this person, I ignored the murmurs and believed in this person’s authenticity.
Turns out, I was wrong and in the end, they didn’t receive the job… Kharma? They were not an ALLY… why do so many of us see people of noncolor as treacherous, and calculating? I will leave it there…
For a season:
This person spanned years in my journey. I always recalled how I made a motto of not getting close to ANYONE in my workplace because I wanted to stay focused. Work is to work, to perform, to do the job because you are getting paid to do it and later give more because I believe in leaving a place BETTER than how it was when you entered it.
This person persisted in being a part of a program I created for students to travel abroad and won me over.
Traveling abroad with anyone repeatedly allows for closeness, intimate moments shared that mostly women know of, and experiences that bond.
This naturally happened and when it came time for this person’s retirement, I of course, as a friend (remember my definition) planned for it and made it happen but that was not all. This person’s partner was at the end of their days and lay moribund at home and I felt my ‘friend’s’ pain. I showed up at their doorstep after work and assisted in the care of their partner. Changed their soiled diapers, moved the half alive body so as to not allow for bed sores to happen, and assisted in feeding them, all because that is what a friend does.
Today that decade-long program is no longer under my care. It was taken from me abruptly and without consideration of my human value to my place of work yet this person continues with it. I just recently saw this person with the newest group of students that landed in Italy on a social media post and I almost cried, to think I am no longer a part of that, yet sucked it up because I am tired of the needless tears and know that Kharma has room for them as well.
For a lifetime:
The last two share my DNA and remain the most painful of decisions.
One I witnessed the physical growth of a young promising lively child, the last words to them being ‘You are so much like your father than you think.’ which marked the ‘taglio netto‘, ‘neat cut’ from any future interactions between us.
Being a daily part of young children’s learning through my classroom for over twenty years, I repeatedly experienced how divorce affects them. That set of experiences carries on to young adulthood, and without awareness bleeds into adulthood. It is different from children that are born and raised in single-parent homes. Mistrust or lack of it is a result of severed marriages and can greatly affect the progress of growth and could, if unaccounted for, lead the adult to believe that everyone else is at fault and not them. Everything that goes wrong must be because the world is against them. I have crossed paths with many youngsters with that frame of mind and was never surprised when they shared the root of their programming. This isn’t to say all children of divorce become adults with commitment issues yet again, if that child now an adult believes there is no problem, then there is nothing to fix. And with that, I walked away, I walked away from my brother after he believed me to be this ‘monster’ because I told him to ‘grow up’.
The second is the oldest daughter of my grandmother, the ‘primogenita‘ as she loves to boast, meaning ‘firstborn’. In her mind, she lives in archaic times and therefore expresses herself that way. She has taken the responsibility to care for my grandmother in her last years and I appreciate that, yet will not applaud anyone for doing what they are SUPPOSED to do. I will, however, recognize her sacrifice despite the obsessive love for money she obtained in this country that ruled every decision she made while caring for children, myself included. Some were gainful and some were not, but trust that all lined her accounts.
That relationship ended the night she pulled my grandmother from her ‘bad’ arm to prevent her from speaking to her daughter, her younger sister down south, and after she pulled her away, proceeded to yell at her and physically attack me. I was a child again but this time I called 9-1-1. And with this, she tried to snatch the phone from my hands. The violence I grew up in revisited the apartment I call home. The police showed up, and this marked the first time I filled out a police report. I will never forget her answer to the police officer’s question – ‘Why did you hit her?‘ – ‘Because she upset me.’ That kind of blatant reckless impulsion in the form of words and corporal punishment was our normal growing up but I ended it that night.
Fatigue was something I thought I would never experience, but I was wrong because I grew tired of people treating me like shit. I am tired of people talking to me as if I am nothing, using words to hurt me, after everything I have given to the relationships I have cared for. I am tired of the people I believe to care about me and for me, reciprocate as if I was some kind of stranger.
From now on, I remind myself of my definition of friendship and even when it comes to family approach it with a different frame of mind. Family is and will always be different when it comes to the joys and pains we experience making how much we feel more intense but in the end, I will ask myself… is this time I am investing, for a reason, for a season, or for a lifetime?
Rosa Isabel Chavez 