I haven't had time to write for a while, thanks to a combination of family events, a research proposal and of course, an impending Christmas. Someone asked about a month ago if Christmas was a difficult time of year and I breezily replied that it was usually a very pleasant time for me, which is true.
What I hadn't factored in though, was the build up. One lovely friend, assuming I was invited, mentioned sharing a pre-Christmas meal together. Momentary confusion gave way to that familiar lurch in my stomach. Oh, that Christmas meal. The one my oldest friends arrange. The tradition that ensures we all spend time together even when life gets busy.
The one I'm not invited to this year.
Another lady was evasive about a gathering she was having. Gradually I realised that the group she had invited was made up of many of my old friends. A group of ladies who care for, love and support each other.
But I'm not invited this year.
The reasons are probably complex. I know these people are not setting out to hurt me. They are getting on with their lives and may believe that I have brought the exclusion upon myself.
But it breaks my heart.
I've found myself googling ostracism, social exclusion, anything to find something, someone who's written about this kind of experience. Mostly what I've found is about a more extreme form of shunning - that awful act of pretending that a person has ceased to exist.
Instead, my friends will always smile in my direction, as a demonstration of their continued pleasantness towards me. My friends will tell me that they love me, whilst simultaneously informing me that they don't believe my version of events. My friends write letters expressing willingness to receive me back into the fold, so long as I fully acknowledge the things I have done wrong. My friends refuse to tell me what those wrong things are, because 'you know what they are'. My friends do not believe that the leader of my previous church is capable of bullying. Wonderful, loving people that they are, and they truly are, my friends will not walk alongside me if I continue to express my pain and make such claims.
In that upside down world, it appears I have chosen my own ostracism.
So I'm writing this because I know I'm not the only one. Ostracism attacks and undermines some basic human needs, particularly the need to belong. I'm starting to find my sense of belonging in healthier places, but I'm deeply grieving for those lost places of belonging too. I'm hoping that by writing about it, I will not only help myself, but will also provide a glimmer of hope for someone else who has lost their place of belonging. If you find yourself in some upside down world where it seems you've chosen your own ostracism even though it's breaking your heart, you're not the only one. I'm here too.
I remember that longing to be loved and accepted and included by those I'd opened my heart to. And I remember the pain of knowing I would only be welcome (and 'loved') if I stopped exposing the wrongs in our midst and pretended I was ok. My heart breaks, knowing that you are feeling that pain, too. But acknowledging it and grieving the very real loss you have suffered is absolutely appropriate and healthy.
ReplyDeleteAnd for whatever it's worth, while I 'remember' that pain, I no longer 'feel' it. My prayer and confident hope for you is that, in time, this would be your experience, too xxx
Thank you dear friend xxx
DeleteGosh, I'm so sorry to hear you've gone through that. Just reading your blog made me feel so sad and remember my experiences a few years back but not feel it like Living Liminal said. I realised that 'friends' that thought the worst of me were not actually friends and that made it easier to let them go, but it took time to grieve the loss of what I believed were good and healthy relationships. It also reminded me that some of my ostracism was self imposed. Many folks knew of the abuse I'd suffered but invited both my abuser and I to the same event. I think nearly every time I declined as I couldn't cope with what they might say or do to me or what might be used for nasty online comments and blogs. It was not safe to be there and my eventual no contact boundary has been wrongly interpreted as shunning. I'm getting better now but still suffer with anxiety and hyper vigilance if there's a chance they might be at an event I am. I'm really enjoying your posts, very thought provoking though again, I'm sorry that you have had to go through all of this. Take care x
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind words. I really appreciate your understanding. It sounds like you've been through many similar things. Like you, if I thought I would end up anywhere near the leader of my previous church I would be anxious and hyper vigilant.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry you have been misinterpreted in such a hurtful way. It takes such courage to go no contact and often really goes against our natural inclination to be open and kind and trusting.
Thank you again for commenting, I always look forward to hearing from you xx