Friends and Fighting

I just woke from a big, fat nap. It's a beautiful day here in northern Ohio. Suzanne and I took her daughters, Maya and Alyssa to a picnic lunch with some friends of theirs. By the end of the lunch and playtime at the park, Maya was in tears after a misunderstanding with her little friend. Poor Maya sniffled all the way home, and Suzanne and her friend deduced that the two girls were simply grumpy and had a bad day. The next time would be fine, they were sure of it.

After Suzanne's girls were in bed for a nap, Suzanne told me that Maya's friend tried to call Maya on the cell phone. To apologize, perhaps? We weren't sure, but it did get me thinking about how I was taught to be with my friends growing-up.

I don't remember tiffs at a young age though I know they happened (If I could find Eric Peterson on Facebook I would like to apologize for knocking him down and rolling him a few times in third grade, though). I remember an incident in high school when I friend came flying into my house where I was hanging out with friends, yelled at me for not including her (I'd forgotten to call) and burst out of the house. Before she left I did apologize to her, but it didn't diffuse.

Much to my annoyance, my Mom had me call her the next to to "see if she was OK". I was pissed to have to do this after I'd been verbally assaulted in my own house. And she didn't apologize for the outburst in the end anyway. However, I have always remembered that lesson, because I learned that if you put effort in, you can never say that you didn't at least try.

To this day, when I have had tiffs with friends (or boyfriends, for that matter), I have always done my best to not fling mud. In fact, one of the instances was with the friend mentioned a few entries below this one. When our friendship unraveled, she would call me over and over, subtly instigating me. Finally, I realized that she wanted me to be pissed off at her and show it. She wanted me to fling mud. That it would actually help her feel better if in her mind she could call me a bitch. I know I can be a bitch, but in this instance, it wasn't in me to be one.

I am very aware of the importance for me personally to handle stuff like that with as much decorum as possible. I hate that word because I think it sounds snotty (perhaps I am, I guess), but I think it applies.

I'm sure there have been plenty of times when I have not thought my thoughts through and blurted out something that hurt someone. I hope they told me if I did and I hope they received an apology from me.

This non-mud-flinging way is important to me on two levels; at the end of my life, I want to know that treated others the best way I could. And, I never want to say something thoughtless to someone and leave them or myself haunted by it for the rest of time. Regret is not something I want anything to do with.