Not being on the guest list

and how i make myself feel better about it

Should we write when we’re hurt, or should we write when we’re healed? There’s something that feels intensely vulnerable and private about sharing my hurts, and it crossed my mind to wait until I was ‘over it’. But that option may leave me nothing to write about.

The latest little hurt for me is not being invited to some friends’ weddings. So many things to mentally unpack - like well, I guess they weren’t really your friends then missy! But also, I suppose it took not being invited for me to learn that. This has happened about 3 or 4 times in the last year or two, and as much as I don’t take these things personally anymore (because god knows I’m not always thinking about the emotional wellbeing of each and every one of my life acquaintances during my own big life events), it does start to make me wonder about my value (or lack thereof) as a friend.

Something is slightly different this time, though. While a part of me is still hurt, I’m not going down the path of judging my goodness as a friend, because I know that I can be a good one, and that simultaneously I can also be better. I’m not being abandoned by everyone (yet) so it can’t all be doom and gloom.

The other thing is that it’s not so much about me being less important to people than I previously perceived, but also the potential blessing that is me being shown where I stand in their lives. It means I can begin to conserve more of my own energy. It also reaffirms my intention to nurture the relationships I do have.

I’ve seen a lot of those quotes and posts while growing up that talk about the friends who show you their ‘true colours’ or the ‘real ones’ showing their faces eventually, when the ‘fake ones’ have slipped away. I’ve never thought of myself as a person with fake friends. It’s even possible I’m the fake friend (watch out). This desire, perhaps, to be liked and to have a wide circle, maybe to feel safe, only to see it slowly shrink. I think what it is is a slightly painful kind of relief.

There’s still potentially much to be questioned - perhaps I can do better, or at the very least I can try. But I’ve also experienced the trying, and seeing that this little game is feeling one-sided. Not getting a response on time, or being sought out only in someone else’s time of need. I’ve been on the receiving end as well - being made to feel like I’m not doing enough, and not liking it, the discomfort of being called out, but also the discomfort of being asked for something I cannot, or don’t want to give.

What I’m really coming to see is the delicate dance of it all - just this whole life we have of connecting with each other in the various ways we do, and then the various ways in which we fall out of lives, sometimes slowly, sometimes with a bit of hurt. I’d like not to judge anyone for it, and that includes myself. Sometimes people don’t make sense. I don’t make sense either. I’d like to not go crazy trying to make sense of things - it feels lighter when I think of it as a dance.