Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 7/30/21 Nik Curfman 7/30/21

Vol II: #10 Today, I Mourn

When our friendship ended last fall, I tried to sweep my way past it as if she was an old shoe. I didn’t cry or mourn the loss of someone dear to me. Today, the Lord shined a light on that moment last fall. Today is the day he decided to expose a blind spot in my vision. I miss my friend. She’s a good woman with a massive heart. The fear boxed her into a safe and slow march to hopelessness. I’ve got compassion for that. She didn’t consciously choose to lose hope and courage. It was beaten out of her one disappointment at a time.

2020 was the year I shed, by choice or by providence, limiting beliefs and sour relationships. I chose faith in the hardest of moments and found grace where none existed in the past. This blog is full of those stories— how I walked through my worst fears and began to love me. And, I wrote a lot about my old business partner, my ex-girlfriend too.

Last fall, I wrote two brief blogs about a sour friendship. My friend was increasingly sarcastic and bitter. Most of her texts centered on displeasure with her job and community. All of her friends were stupid or weird. Her boss was an idiot and beneath her. Daniel is so lucky to have me, she’d say. When I pressed her to make a change, she piled up excuses like a beaver building a dam. She was the queen of excuses; I can’t do that; it would embarrass them.

I met this woman 20 years ago when I was young and immature. We attended the same ministry school for a year. After that year, she moved back to Canada. And despite the distance, she maintained a relationship with a mutual friend. In the fall of 2002, the young man passed away in a car crash. I don’t believe my friend ever really recovered from it. Maybe that’s not true, but it feels like it could be. My Canadian friend doesn’t seem to have emotionally matured past what you’d expect of someone in their early 20’s. The biggest evidence of this is her relationship with her mother— where she maintains a textbook codependent child/parent relationship. Again, I’ll emphasize this is all from my point of view as an outsider.

I can positively say that her thrust of life and adventure waned significantly over the last ten years. She’s got no plan and no power. Her sarcasm and wisecracks are thick and sharp. Whenever I tried to address it with her, she deflected my criticism. Your too sensitive, she’d say. Our last blowup was over coronavirus. As hospitals in Los Angeles overflowed and people suffered, she denounced government intervention as useless. Her words dripped a bitter cold judgment—no compassion or understanding. No empathy. At that point, I couldn’t member why we were friends.

I would’ve preferred to end our friendship on a high note, like one of us getting married. But, how many friendships truly end on a high note? It’s not common. Very few of us will get the opportunity to say goodbye to someone we love at a proper and long moment. I can say I wish the ending of my friendship with Ms. Canada went better. But, how do you tell someone you don’t want to listen to them bitch about everything in their life? Given her track record of rationalization and deflections, I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t take it well.

The reason I write about her today is that I must. Here and now, I’m going to admit some hidden secrets from the Nik files. Today is the day I am admitting to God and myself some truths about me and Ms. Cananda.

To start, in 2009, I made a romantic advance toward my friend, which she rejected. (This is a not-so-secret moment. Just wait.) I moved on, and we maintained our friendship. By 2011, thanks to Whatsapp, I texted my friend every day. In fact, I know I didn’t text anyone more than her from 2011 to 2019. Because of the distance, I didn’t really talk about my pen pal to anyone else. We would chat about the Oscars or the Olympics and share pictures of daily life. We texted from sun up to sundown. At times we maintained an emotional connection beyond normal. On a few occasions, I wondered if I should make another move. As you know, I never did. In the Fall of 2014, I put away any thoughts of dating my friend. I knew her too well.

What’s funny is I’ll never really know if she thought any of that. Ms. Canada isn’t about to embarrass herself or be honest. I know for a fact she had thoughts or feelings (or something) at least once or twice. I’m not that stupid. However shallow or short, they’re were moment. Who sends a guy pictures of dead grandparents? Or texts deep into the night? That’s not normal guy/girl friendship stuff.

I haven’t mourned many broken friendships. Again, when most friendships end, there’s no parade or memo. It just ends. But, I am mourning the loss of my friend today. I hope she’s doing ok. I pray moves past fear and doubt. If she were here, she’d tell me I’m wrong. She’s not afraid of anything, rather waiting on the Lord. That’s what people say when they are statues, and they want to be statues. To admit to fear or despair would be shameful, an admission of the damned. I don’t care. Toward the end of our friendship, she made me feel like shit. Often. I had to own my behavior, which required me to lay down boundaries. You know how that went. So, I didn’t make a mistake. It was time for the friendship to end.

Today, I mourn.

Nik Curfman 6/13/21 Nik Curfman 6/13/21

Journal: #305 Walking Out The Final Steps of Grief

Today is as close to romantic square one as I can be. No interests, nothing interesting. Not yet. It feels like the place to be. The secondary point of grieving is to create space for something new (by processing pain, which is the first point.) Many of us don’t have room for new because we never properly let go of the old. While I am embarrassed at the amount of time required to heal, I am glad I let myself do it.

(Today’s blog post is a bit of an embarrassment to write. It would be easier for me to avoid it, but that’s not the spirit of my writing. Here we go.)

When I broke with my last girlfriend, just over a year ago, I decided to handle it with as much grace and dignity as I could muster. I didn’t argue with her, call names, or subtly try to work my way back into her life. I allowed myself to grieve the moment, but my embarrassment stems from how long the grieving process is. Or, has been. I feel like I did something wrong, even though I did not.

Overall, I’m happy with the progress I made. This week felt like the final mile of the grieving process. Throughout the week, the Lord put people and messages in front of me. It started with how “exes can’t be friends” and ended with “everyone’s got embarrassing shit.” The latter I heard from two different sources. And honestly, I can’t remember hearing or seeing one single word on exes being friends until last week. (When the Lord has something to say He says it over and over until we hear and under it. He’s not an asshole whispering in the wind.)

Today is as close to romantic square one as I can be. No interests, nothing interesting. Not yet. Feels like the place to be. The secondary point of grieving is to create space for something new (by processing pain, which is the first point.) Many of us don’t have room for new because we never properly let go of the old. While I am embarrassed at the amount of time required to heal, I am glad I let myself do it.