Somebody That I Used to Know

There’s a thing about open doors: If you have to abandon yourself at the threshold so you can enter and be received with love, that open door is an invitation to betray yourself for someone else’s comfort. That open door is a trapdoor.Hello friends, welcome to the this week’s podcast episode, which is based on an essay I published a couple of weeks ago. I read the essay to start us off, a thing I don’t always do, because this piece resonated with a lot of readers, and I know people prefer to have an audio version that isn’t read by a bot. I am no fan of bots, as I believe I made clear in last week’s essay. Who can keep up with all the insanity these days? I’m already writing a new essay in my head about the importance of the free press, which is under attack again. But let’s stay with ambiguous grief, the topic of “Somebody That I Used to Know” — that’s the kind of grief you feel when you lose someone who is still alive. So many of us have experienced — or are currently living with — that kind of loss. I’d imagine most of us have felt it at least once, at the end of a romantic relationship, or when a friendship lasts for a season, and not a lifetime. The painful feeling of knowing someone is out there, a person you used to text first when something significant or silly happened, or you saw a meme that made you laugh, or you got scary or upsetting news — and now you have no idea what their life is like. It hurts, it’s brutal sometimes, but it’s also the nature of things. None of us lasts forever, so these “small deaths” are a kind of practice test, a way to train ourselves to get used to impermanence and our own vulnerability.When I started writing the essay, I wanted to defend and reassure grown children who experience parental or familial gaslighting, it’s no reflection on them. It’s personal to me, I lived that way for decades with my mother. I loved her so much, but she did not make it easy. I started thinking about this topic because I came across an article (and wished I hadn’t) written by a mother who said she’d “left the door open” for her adult, estranged daughter, and that she prayed one day her daughter would walk through that open door. She was writing about her grief over the loss of her child, the pain she feels, and I’m sure she is in pain. However. I think there are many of us who’ve heard some version of that story. My child wants little to do with me, I am devastated, I’ve tried to communicate, and now I’ve decided to live my life. But the door is open. There’s a thing about open doors: If you have to abandon yourself at the threshold so you can enter and be received with love, that open door is an invitation to betray yourself for someone else’s comfort. “Accept my version of reality, and all will be well again.” “Pretend I haven’t hurt you, and we can go back to the way things were.” “Act like the things I’ve said or done don’t matter, like they didn’t happen even if they broke your heart, and we can enjoy a family dinner. “ “Just because I voted for a man who makes you less safe, behave as though that’s ‘only politics’ and shouldn’t be a thing that comes between us.” “Even though he breaks every Commandment, pretend it makes sense when I say I voted for him because I’m a conservative Christian.” “Though you meant no harm, though you were simply trying to exist in the world and say things that were true, grovel before me and I’ll decide if your begging is enough to satisfy me.”That “open door” is a trapdoor, and people who love you don’t ask you to abandon yourself — they love you for who you are. Any parent who is unable to do that over “ideological differences” (read: because their child is a member of the LGBTQ community) is failing that child and themselves, full stop. That’s not Christ-like, it’s devastating. Things have become twisted and strange. There’s a lack of empathy that is horrifying to take in every day, but it doesn’t have to be like this, and it isn’t sustainable. People are not okay. We’re meant to be kind to one another, it feels good as you may have noticed. It feels awful to despise people, it’s exhausting and depleting. I see how it hardens people who succumb, and it’s ugly. The cruelty, the arrogance. There’s no love in that, no joy, no growth. We all get to choose who we’re going to be, though.I hope you enjoy this episode. You might have n