Call me Midiane.
I had met her through mutual friends about a year ago. She was an attractive British girl with a sense of humour that I missed here in South Africa, and we had hit it off and kept in regular touch. Soon, she was a part of my daily IM marathon conversations during work. And she became privy to the details of my romantic quests, failed attempts at dating, and thought experiments of love. She knew about the former fiancee-to-be. She had helped me navigate the difficult road through recovery and rehabilitation.
We didn't see each other much, as she was married and I was busy with my own life. But that changed when I moved out of my family home and into my own flat. We were suddenly neighbours, if separated by a few more roads than usual. We talked more. We laughed more. And then she confided in me about some concerns she was having in her own life. She confided. I listened. She talked some more. I made more tea and more time online to listen.
I knew about her concerns at her last job and the daily struggles she had to get through. I was glad to help in any way. She was a good friend, who understood my own troubles at home at the time. She had listened and then some.
It seemed only natural that we could now work together on a professional level. And that we could do. But she knew of my recent fiascos in my film business and how I had failed to manage the client relationships in any constructive way. She knew.
I completed the first part of her brief. She was happy about it, she actually loved it. Her eyes lit up with visions of opportunity and success. It was sublime seeing a client happy.
But I choked on the next part. I had missed a few deadlines for this part and she was understanding, yet not afraid to give me a quiet, firm warning. I handled it, she moved on. We were still friends.
But I did say I choked. I woke up, my eyes crumbling from fatigue and anxiety, and I went to work. And I didn't attend the most important meeting, where I was to present the deliverable. And I didn't pick up the calls. And I didn't answer the text message.
Article comments
1 - Catherine
It's a very human story, the failures, the mistakes, the grief of the loss (I think the loss of a friend can hurt more than the loss of a romantic relationship).
The positive ending is this: you will never make that mistake again!
A huge lesson for me early in my career was to **immediately** own up to mistakes (to clients, to my boss, to my colleagues) since avoidance, even in the form of well-meaning attempts to fix the mistake, only makes it worse. Of course, the lesson applies in our personal lives as well.
I'm sorry you had to go through heartbreak to get there, but the outcome is a better you.
(Oh, and if it were me, I would send her this story with an apology and an assurance that you've learned your lesson. It won't fix the friendship, but it will be honest acknowledgement of your failings.)
Be well.
2 - Phillip Winn
What's interesting to me is the question of how deep your realization goes. Acknowledging failure is one thing, but how self-centered is it to say that you "did the normal thing and ducked?"
It's unclear " and you may simply not now, or be able to say " how much impact this incident has had on *her* life. You've lost a friend, but she may have lost a career.
I once lamented about how badly I had screwed up various parts of my life, and thought I had arrived. It was only when I started to realized how badly I had screwed up various part of *others* lives that I realized how much I suck, though.
3 - Midiane
Catherine, thank you for your encouragement and kind support. It is much appreciated and cherished.
You're right; I'll never make this mistake again. And as much as your advice is valid and sound, it's not the right time. Her e-mail meant to stay away. Maybe in a while, I'll send it. What do you think? Perhaps the iron is too hot right now...
Phillip, maybe I didn't understand your comment. I wouldn't know how that's self-centered.. it's a statement. I ducked.
You are right. You realise you suck more when you mess up others' lives.
Again, thanks both of you for your support.
4 - Joanne Huspek
Though flawed, you sound human, and remarkably smart. Your embarrassment will subside and there will be a better human on the other side of it.
5 - Catherine
Waiting for the iron to cool down is just another form of avoidance. I would say, "I respect your wishes and will stay away, but as a parting comment, I wanted to let you know that I learned my lesson and I'm deeply sorry it was at your expense." Or something like that. Good luck.
6 - Midiane
Catherine, very wise.. I think I'll do that.
Joanne, I hope so too.
7 - Midiane
Update: sent the email with the link. Thanks again for your wise counsel. Look out for a new post this week.
Midiane.
8 - Midiane
hey all, new essay published last night. Check it out and leave your comments. Look forward to them.
9 - Elvira Black
Now this is what writing is all about...unabashed honesty, and putting it out there even though you may get some flak.
I've been on the receiving end of people who didn't keep their word, but again when I was younger I wasn't always completely responsible either. In most instances, I only hurt myself.
I firmly believe in karma. Most people take a much longer time to realize that the hurt they put out there comes back to them, but perhaps because you'd had it happen to you before, it was that much more clear.
I agree: sending her the article is a good thing, even if you never hear back from her. It's important to have closure, for her and for you.
And I always find that writing about things helps me sort them out, learn from them, put it out there for others to read and respond to. It's always a learning experience for me.
Kudos...keep up the good work.