When your relationship ends you desperately want to talk to someone about it. You want to rage against the unfairness of the situation, you want to hide away under a rock and hope no one turns it over and you want to find someone who understands how you feel when you wake up and when you try to fall asleep.
It’s been a year since the friendship between Michael S. and I developed. We met in a group for separated people. We both had just recently broken up with our partners and wanted to find a way to get them back. We were both struggling with transitioning from being a couple to being single individuals. I was so tired of travelling that dirt road alone, I wanted someone who was willing to travel with me.
Mike seemed to be dealing better with the breakup than I was. I read a few comments he had posted on the group for a month before I felt brave enough to ask his opinion on my situation. He often gave other members of the group great advice, he was likened to a social worker, a therapist or someone who knew what they were talking about. He knew how to handle this tough situation and I wanted to draw some of his strength and take it as my own.
Mike was direct and didn’t mince his words to make you feel coddled. If he thought you were being out-of-place, or needed to be redirected he would give it to you. He would just tell you how he saw it and it was up to you to take it or leave it.
I desperately wanted to have his take on my situation. I think I must have written my question to him a million times, before I clicked the send button. I wanted to take it back as soon as it was out there.
I wanted my ex back without a doubt and so did Mike. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to transition from having a family to being just a mother. I didn’t even know how to get out of bed every morning, but I did it because I had to. I needed someone to get it. My friends said they understood, but most were still happily married or happily separated. I was neither.
From the moment, Mike responded to my question, I clung to every word he had to say. I would respond to his comment and then he would say something else and on and on this little dance between us went.
Eventually, we left the group that brought us together. We had each other for strength and I looked forward to just talking with him. We exchanged phone numbers and continued to support each other along our path to surviving our breakups.
I have never met Mike in person. I have seen his picture on Facebook. I was there when he found out his grandmother had died. I have shared in his life celebrations and listened silently when he has felt defeated.
We have talked about meeting on several occasions. I have never been to St. Louis, Missouri and Mike has never been to Canada. Of all the relationships I have with people in my lives, this one has become very important to me. Mike is one of my closest and dearest friends and I don’t ever want that to change.
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