I have this bad habit of being too open with people. I used to think I was being vulnerable, telling all who would listen my life story. Saying too much. I thought it was a positive thing.
It isn't.
Researcher/author Brene Brown schooled me on vulnerability so now I have a much greater understanding and appreciation for exactly what it is. And what it isn't.
What it isn't is throwing up all over social media, airing dirty laundry and saying whatever I want, and calling it vulnerability. What is it? Having one (or maybe two) people who are safe and know everything about you, but still love you. Brown says if you have two people like this in your life, you are blessed. And I do, so I am.
But I didn't always know this. And for some reason, I have always tried to make the world aware of those things I should reserve for only a few. Why do I feel this deep need to throw my pearls before swine, to share what many cannot appreciate? I have made many mistakes, but I am on an ever-changing path to enlightenment. Just like you are.
Vulnerability is a complicated, fine line for those of us who write. Sometimes, in the very act of writing, we can cross lines that should not be crossed. I have done this and have had to apologize. A lot. I am sure I will unwittingly do it again. I apologize in advance. I am walking a tightrope, almost constantly, as I write honestly about things that take place in my life. So much so that I am thinking I may switch to fiction.
So, what to do in the case of friendships? Which friends should I be vulnerable with and which ones not? I have been burned many times in this area, I'm afraid, but nothing as bad as what happened recently. And I never saw it coming.
During the first three weeks of December my fellow software trainers and I were all onsite in Southern California to train end-users on Epic software. It is what I do for a living. Thousands of consultants like me travel across the country training Epic, electronic medical record software, that is used by most hospitals and clinics throughout the United States and even the world. Most of us love the Epic consultant world, getting paid to travel and racking up hotel points and airline miles. We get paid to travel. Most people would kill for such a career!
Everyone I know embraced this lifestyle. Until COVID. It changed everything in our life as consultants. More and more Epic training gigs are done remotely. The project I was on prior to this one was 100% remote until it was time to head off to Chicago for three weeks for Go Live support.
Anyway, back to what happened in December. My 23-year-old daughter, Alessandra, tested positive for COVID and texted to let me know. That is another story in and of itself, maybe to be told another time. I found out after she had been positive for several days and over ten days since I had seen her, briefly, on Thanksgiving. I asked her if I could ask for prayer for her on Facebook and she said yes. My motive was pure: a mother's concern for her child. If only all motives were as pure.
I should have thought twice about the decision. I posted anyway. I wanted people to be praying for my daughter, especially since I was far away and could do nothing to help.
Not more than five minutes after I posted on Facebook, a "friend" of mine from work texted me, saying, "Your daughter has COVID?" Her question felt more like an interrogation than a concern. That should have been my first clue.
"She sure does," I said, thinking nothing of the ramification of my response. "Thank God she isn't hospitalized."
"Praise God for that," she said. "Did you see her on Thanksgiving?"
"I did," I said. "But I would be sick by now (if I had COVID). No one (in our family) feels sick."
In hindsight, I wish I had lied to her. But I trusted her and said it freely because I didn't think she would turn tail and betray me. Obviously, there are still instances where I share too much with people who do not deserve it, who are unsafe. Maybe one day I will learn?
"You can still have COVID and be asymptomatic," she said. Duh. I haven't exactly been living under a rock for the past year. "That's why you NEED to get tested so you don't give it to someone else."
I went on to say I was pretty sure I had it in March, after our Spring break trip to Clearwater Beach. You may have seen us on the news, with the hundreds of other beachgoers who were oblivious to the fact that COVID had become a serious thing.
She persisted, "It doesn't matter. You need to be tested and tell management here." Those were the last "words" we spoke to each other.
This woman had been my friend. Even so, I knew her well enough to know that if I didn't go to management, she would. I felt like a wild animal who had been caught in a trap, chewing on my foot, trying to break free. I was angry, I felt betrayed, and could not honestly believe that this is how our friendship would end.
I instantly blocked her on social media. She would not be a person who would be privy to the details of my life anymore. I had trusted her, and she took that trust, stomped on it and threw it out like yesterday's garbage. I was done. And I am not easily done.
I did end up going to my superiors soon after the confrontation and they told me I did not have to get a test and did not have to report it to Employee Relations because it had been over ten days since I had contact with my daughter. I was relieved.
Later that day, as expected, I received a call from our onsite manager, stating that she had heard that I had a potential exposure to COVID and could I tell her about it. WOW. Exactly how I had predicted. If I had only known when this day started that I was going to lose a friend by the end of it, maybe I would have done things differently. But should I have to? No.
Maybe I wouldn't have posted on Facebook. But I wanted people praying for my daughter and I have every right to think my information will be safe with "friends."
Maybe I need to not trust anyone, even if they claim they care about me?
Maybe I need to keep my friends close, but my enemies closer? But how do I know a friend is an enemy? A wolf in sheep's clothing.
I have learned a lot since early December. But it came at a great cost. It was stressful and, yes, it was heartbreaking for me. The loss of a friend is painful and sad. It feels rotten. Just one more casualty in the COVID era. I am sure more friendships will fall as a result of this damn pandemic. People are crazed over it, judgmental, brutal.
Bottom line? If you want to lose a friend, be honest with them. Trust them. And most important? Be vulnerable with them. Sit back and wait to see what happens.
Then -- and only then -- will you know who your real friends are.