Reader TTS

Kathryn grew demanding, calling and texting many times a day. If I didn’t respond within a few hours, I would receive another text or voicemail: “I am worried about you. Please let me know

you are OK.” I felt like a child late for curfew. I didn’t want to feel like my communication had deadlines. I didn’t want anyone worrying about me if I didn’t respond quickly enough. The

pressure grew, and the friendship became more of a job than a joy. I’d reply with, “Sorry, so busy, I will get in touch with you soon,” but she would email me and ask that I read a piece of

her writing and help her with an ending. I loved Kathryn, but I hated our new dynamic. I tried to set boundaries, but I did so in an indirect, even passive-aggressive, way. I should have

done so clearly, intentionally and without fear or hesitation. I should have said, “Kathryn, I don’t have time for daily calls and texts. I love you, but you are asking for more than I can

give. Can we agree to check in once a week?” But even at 43 years old, that was too damn scary and uncomfortable for me, and my ego had better plans. How dare she be so demanding? I thought.

Doesn’t she understand how busy I am? How I’ve already helped her so much? My thoughts were all me, me, me, and when I was certain that Kathryn was at fault for not respecting my

boundaries, I made the very intentional decision to ghost her. I blocked her everywhere. MORE FROM ETHELS TELL ALL Time went on, and I lived my life without Kathryn. Sometimes I thought

about her and how rejected she must have felt, but my ego quickly assured me that she deserved it. There were times when I missed her, and my ego convinced me she was too demanding. When

Kathryn popped into my mind, my ego promptly pushed her out because the thought of losing the friendship, of intentionally and rudely ending the friendship, was too painful for me. Life went

on. At least it did for me. Kathryn wasn’t so lucky. Her life was abruptly ended by cancer. I learned about it from a Facebook post and read her obituary in complete disbelief. My ego

couldn’t help me anymore. There was no justification for what I had done. She had been diagnosed with cancer and I hadn’t known. I didn’t get to say “goodbye” or “thank you” or “I love you.”

I didn’t even know about her wake and funeral because I was living in the comfort of my own avoidance. Did she think of me? Did she try to contact me? Did she hate me?