I am really good at ghosting.
According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of ghosting is,
“the act or practice of abruptly cutting off all contact with someone (such as a former romantic partner) by no longer accepting or responding to phone calls, instant messages, etc.”
After that, if you keep reading, it says my name in small print as a “ghosting expert.”
Cause I ghost all the time, y’all.
ALL. THE. TIME.
Honestly, I don’t even know when I first ghosted someone, but it was definitely before it became a term in our daily vernacular.
I know I should be ashamed of being a pro-ghoster. It’s not one of my most positive attributes.
But, in my defense, I don’t ghost everyone…
…just the ones who aren’t worthy of being a part of the greatness that is my life.
That sounds incredibly cocky, I know. But it’s called self-care — choosing who will be in my life and who will not.
Years ago, I ghosted a friend. I remember the night so vividly. My sister was with me, and we had just spent the day with this [former] friend. I had known for quite some time that the end of this friendship was nigh. There were many signs and things that transpired that became increasingly frustrating to deal with. Friendships should never be burdensome or frustrating, and that’s what it became.
For some reason, I decided that day was going to be the day I walked away….
….but I never told them that.
To them, everything was copacetic.
Little did this person know that I said goodbye, got in the car, pulled out the driveway, and while speeding home with my sister in the passenger seat, I screamed (on the top of my lungs) with the windows down on the highway, “I’M OUT B — TCHES!!!!!” (My sister can verify this).
That was my Michael Scott “I Declare Bankruptcy” moment. (For those who don’t understand that reference, please Youtube this scene from The Office. Then immediately binge The Office episodes, because who even are you?!)
It was my way of announcing the end of the friendship. I figure if I screamed it on the top of my lungs into the sky, that it would be clear.
Was this the most mature way to handle this? No.
Did I regret it back then? No
Do I regret it now? Nope.
I had been feeling unhappy with this friendship for quite some time. I frequently saw red flags along the way that it had run its course. Neither of us was giving what the other needed. Although I believe I was a good friend, it’s not difficult for me to admit that I probably failed them, too, especially when I think about how I was emotionally checked out.
By the time that day came, I was beyond ready to leave. I should have walked away long before that fateful day. I mean, for months, my bags were packed, and I was heating the car, waiting for the first opportunity to get the hell out of dodge.
My problem is that I overstay my welcome.
Whether that be at a job or in a relationship, I stay too long.
I hold on too long.
I don’t know what I expect will change when everything feels so miserable, but it’s difficult for me to let go.
I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I don’t want anyone to hate or resent me. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to burn bridges.
But, even more than any of that, I don’t want to explain to someone the reasons why I have to leave…
….because I know they’ll never understand.
After that night, I stopped responding to messages or contacting them, which I’m sure left them in a state of confusion and with a lot of hurt and pain, which I regret. My sister said that it was only right that I sit the friend down and explain why I was moving on without them. And, although I know she was right in some ways, I couldn’t get myself to do it.
How do you explain to someone that you’ve outgrown them? Isn’t that more offensive than ghosting?
I can’t stomach the idea of having this long, drawn-out, emotional conversation listening to how I’ve hurt their feelings while also trying to protect my own heart and well being by explaining that they’re not what I need anymore.
If you tell me, “don’t underestimate them,” or “give them the benefit of the doubt,” I hear you, but please listen to me when I say this:
Not everyone is supposed to have a role in your life movie.
Not everyone will understand why I do what I do, and it’s not my job to try to make them understand. Not everyone is going to agree with my choices, my decisions, or my path.
If it makes sense to me, then that’s all that matters.
It’s not my job to convince them or make them understand anything about my life trajectory.
If you know they’re not going to understand or be supportive, then that’s a good sign that you need to cut your losses.
It has taken me a long time to learn that lesson for myself — that I don’t have to give everyone a starring role, and I also don’t have to explain myself to anyone when I decide their role has changed.
It’s my story. I get to decide who I want, and I don’t have to give reasons.
Ghosting helps me create boundaries when a relationship becomes toxic, unhealthy, and or unfruitful — otherwise, it begins to feel like a daily slog to get through every single day.
So, in the words of Taylor Swift, I’ll “remove myself from the narrative.”
Trust me, I’ve removed myself from MANY narratives in the last few years, and it has been AMAZING.
At this point, no one is safe — because the minute I feel like someone is dead weight, I’m cutting them off that cord and leaving them behind.
I don’t have to take everyone to the mountaintop.
Cutting them out can be ugly, awkward, and painful and will most likely leave people with a lot of hurt and resentment, which nobody wants. However, just like abrupt ends to relationships, growing pains are painful and uncomfortable. But you’ll go through it, come out the other side, and realize that it was for the best.
I’m sure that [former] friend feels relieved that they don’t have to put up with me anymore, and, honestly, I am okay with that.
I have decided I will no longer stay in relationships, whether it be family, friends, romantic, or professional — to appease people’s feelings or keep up with appearances.
I’m too damn old and have come too damn far to waste time on the ones that are just minor characters.
I also won’t put myself in a vulnerable position to allow them to project their pain and hurt onto me. Yes, their feelings are valid, and I respect that — but they don’t get to burden me with what they feel.
Take it to the Lord, in prayer, friend, cause I ain’t got time.
Unfortunately, ghosting someone might mean they end up mad at me forever and become “inside sources” when I’m famous. You know, the ones who tell the media lies, or write unauthorized biographies about what a b — -tch I was to them. (see: Duchess of Sussex, Meghan’s, garbage stepfamily)
But that’s just a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
What I’d say to them when that happens or even now if they happen to read this:
“If I have ghosted you, and you’re mad, my bad. That’s on me. I unwittingly miscast you as one of the leading roles in my life movie when you were only supposed to have an non-speaking extra role.
Your moment is over. Take a bow. Exit stage right, please.”
