Special Guest Article: The Discarded Friend

This article comes from a subscriber, who wished to write it out, but was worried that the details would be too revealing. I am happy to present it to you here.

Photo by Chermiti Mohamed on Unsplash

Once upon a time, my best friend would come to me for relationship advice.

At one time, I felt unqualified because I didn’t have lived romantic relationship experience. But eventually, I was the person they wanted to discuss things with before anyone else –because they knew I wouldn’t judge them for wanting their ex back.

“I didn’t know what it felt like to feel that kind of pull towards another person,” I said. So how on earth could I judge them?

Then the day came when my friend suddenly decided I wasn’t safe to talk to – about anything. Not about their stressful situations, not even what they were doing that day.

And suddenly, they showed me EXACTLY what it felt like to want somebody back in my life that didn’t want me around.

As an aromantic asexual who came out later in life, I suddenly found myself at the other end of a “discard” from an “avoidant.” As I learned newfangled concepts like “attachment styles,” I realized I was in a situation I never thought I would ever have to deal with.

Lucky for me, my friend is someone who discards friends and partners alike.

I met my friend a long time ago, long before I knew I was aromantic or asexual. I felt an immediate comfort level around them, like this was someone I could talk to about anything. But we never became more than Facebook friends because that person left the job that put them in my orbit and that was that. I didn’t see them in person again, until years later, when we had a conversation like no time had passed.

We soon became very close friends. It was the joy of my life until the sudden discard.

Around that time, I was aware that this friend was going through some very stressful situations, including family and financial stress. But they weren’t reaching out as was normally the case. It was their busy season at work, so I didn’t think much of it, but my gut told me something was wrong. We both had a tendency to tell ourselves that someone was upset with us, even if that wasn’t true.

Then one day I texted, confessing that I’d been feeling some distance, and was hoping that my brain was lying to me. If my friend’s brain was also lying to them, I wanted to assure them that I wasn’t upset.

The reply was very strange. It acknowledged the distance, but didn’t explain the reasons for it. My friend said they were just dealing with a lot and couldn’t be around “people.” And they didn’t want to get upset about it because they were heading to dinner with another friend.

People? I was PEOPLE now?

That was the moment I knew I was demoted to the general public. And my friend could hang out with another friend, but couldn’t even talk to me!

Days after that, I got a text actually asking for space. By then, I had researched the reasons why a depressed person might request space, so I sent a text saying the “right things,” while sobbing the entire time. But I was deeply worried, both for this person and for our friendship.

About two weeks later, I got a long text. Maybe I saw what I wanted to, but it gave me hope that eventually, we could mend things. There weren’t deal breakers. Just misunderstandings. Things that would have been fine – if it was a real conversation.

I sent a response – ruminating on it for the whole weekend, before sending a general reply, expressing thanks to them for reaching out, and stating clearly that nothing in the message made me mad. And I genuinely meant it. But two days later, they over-reacted to a Facebook post that wasn’t about them at all, and unfriended me When I said it wasn’t about them, they accused me of gaslighting them.

I wasn’t upset at all that they unfriended me – I’d rather not have my words twisted, thank you very much. However, I WAS upset that they thought that I would have attacked or gaslit them, two things my friend should have known I’d never do.

I thought that aliens kidnapped my best friend, and replaced them with an imposter.

“Who are you?” I wondered. “And what did you do with my best friend?”

For weeks, I reread the text over and over, each time blaming myself for the loss.

After all, when someone trusts you with everything, contacts you for any situation, and then suddenly doesn’t trust you with anything, of course you think that it’s your fault.

But then someone told me not to blame myself for their issues. And I started to work on myself, reading books about boundaries and codependency. I realized that if he didn’t want to talk to me, that was their decision. And even if I did something that made them upset, he didn’t tell me about it until after he discarded me. Not talking to me about it was ALSO their decision. And it was also their decision to block me (he didn’t answer a text for three months, so my phone number is probably blocked as well) so there’s nothing I can do about it.

I learned that this is called a “discard” and people who evicts someone from their life are called “avoidants.” It’s a deep emotional wound, worse than a breakup. People who have been through both say that it’s the most disorienting experience of their life.

I got into a support group online for people who have been dismissed by avoidants. I learned that there are two kinds. Dismissive avoidants (DA), I’m told, don’t really care about the other person, don’t really want closeness and tend to be cruel when they discard the person. Meanwhile, fearful avoidants (FA) want closeness and fear it at the same time. I am sure my former friend is the second type. Some FA’s lean anxious and others lean dismissive. For most of our friendship, I only saw the anxiety, so I think he leans anxious.

Being discarded is incredibly disorienting. It’s emotional whiplash. Because the person doesn’t appear to care about you, you’re wondering if they ever did. I found myself surrounding myself with everything they ever gave me, looking at old photos and videos to remind myself that at one time, they made me feel special, something I never thought I’d experience in a platonic friendship.

I would love the opportunity to talk to them. I ran into them about a month ago and they mentioned about talking to them, but never followed through. I’m told that that was a “breadcrumb,” they realize that they discarded a good person – and then the shame response takes over, and that keeps them from following through.

Many times, that person had lamented that they didn’t have many friends. At that time, I was wearing rose colored glasses. I was sure that if they stopped talking to someone, they must have had a good reason. I had seen my friend give chance after chance to someone who didn’t seem to deserve it. But – I only heard my friend’s side of the story.

Now I know that being a fearful avoidant is basically a trauma response. I also know that a lot of the things I did and said that made my friend uncomfortable also were trauma responses to their distance. If I could talk to them, I would tell them that we were basically two traumatized people who were dealing with our own trauma. And hopefully, that would be the start of healing for both of us.

But also … I don’t want that person to be my best friend, at least not right now.

First of all, we don’t know who the other one is anymore. My former friend, at least the last time they reached out to me, thought I was the kind of person who would attack and gaslight them. And I still don’t know if they’re the kind of person who will have an honest conversation, or simply discard me.

I keep hearing that until an avoidant gets help, they will discard you again, and again, and again.

Once is enough for my nervous system. It can’t take a second time.