This was so very well written. I have experienced the loss of a friend into a lifestyle I wanted to save them from. It’s an impossible situation and can be maddening. I’m so sorry for your loss. You’ve written about it beautifully.
What a gorgeous, sad piece of writing. So glad she eventually got out, but so much of her light was extinguished. Thank you for sharing. You're a great friend.
It hits a nerve because it reminds me of my friend, let's call her Sarah. Reading about you waiting in that cab, your whole body tense... man. I've been there.
For me, it was a 2 AM phone call. Her voice was this tiny, thin thing on the other end of the line. "Can you come get me?" That's all she said. I didn't even ask why. I just threw on shoes and went.
It was the same frantic energy you described. Throwing her stuff into my beat-up car, the duffel bag zipper wouldn't even close. She was looking over her shoulder the whole time, not for a person, but just... looking. Like the air itself was dangerous. I remember the streetlights were this weird orange color, and it was so quiet. The whole world felt like it was holding its breath.
We drove to my place in silence, just the sound of the engine. She stayed for a week. She cried a lot. I made her terrible coffee and we just watched dumb TV shows for hours, not really talking. It was like she was trying to remember how to be a person.
And then... he called. Of course he called. I could hear him through the phone, his voice all sweet and pleading. I saw her face change. The relief was just... it washed over her. It's so much easier to go back to the devil you know than to face the scary unknown, even if the unknown is freedom.
She went back. I helped her pack her stuff again. It felt like a defeat. It was a defeat. The friendship was never the same after that. It's like a part of her decided I was a witness to a weakness she couldn't afford to remember. We talk sometimes, but it's surface stuff. The light's gone out.
It's the hardest thing. You want to scream. You want to shake them. But all you can do is stand there, holding the door open, hoping they'll walk through it. And sometimes, they just don't. And you have to live with that. It just... sucks. There's no other word for it. It's watching a fire you love just slowly go out.
Argelia, I am so sorry you had to go through this, and I hope your friend is okay. You did your best, and that's all you can do. Thank you for reading and sharing your story.
Yes, very apt narrative. I've had a similar experience with my sister. She fled the USA from her abusive man with the help of her family, after she finally left him and fled with ther 2 small children to a women's shelter. She has never been the same since. Keeping in touch is essential for friends/relatives, as she may need our help, although we cannot make the decisons for our loved one. I have never had the wish to submit to the care and love of a man completely, even if I loved him. My sense of preservation kept me striving for independence and using my brains to analyse a tricky situation. I wish the support will be there for women in similar situations without prejudice about their decisons. As most women are raised to get married, many women keep believing in the fairytale.
What struck me most was the thread between your mother’s experience and Camille’s, how you recognized echoes of your own history unfolding in hers.
There’s something haunting about watching someone repeat a pattern you’ve spent years trying to escape. It’s as though trauma travels through friendship too, finding new vessels to inhabit.
What I admire most is how you didn’t just watch history repeat, you tried to interrupt it, even knowing you couldn’t rewrite the ending. That’s a quiet bravery that doesn’t get ENOUGH credit: trying to change the emotional lineage, even if the cycle continues. You still altered it, if only by standing in witness with love instead of judgment. Thank you for sharing. 🩵
Thank you so much for reading and your thoughtful comments. I debated about including aspects of my own story in the piece. These are not easy things to share, but it’s gratifying to hear from empathetic readers.
This hit me in all the feels. I am going through this with my childhood best friend, wishing I could save her, knowing it’s not up to me. Thanks for writing this.
Oh, this essay. "But she could never make herself small enough" will stay with me... how often, as women, have we found ourselves there? Holding a tender spot for her and all of us who have.
"She could never make herself small enough" Wow! After 30 years' living with a narcissist...and 20+ years after his death, how that made me shiver! Thank you, Sumitra, for that chilling truth.
You gave support, offered help. Her life course was up to her not you. Great writing.
I experienced something similar years ago w/ my best friend. She left my home intoxicated (couldn't be convinced to stay for the night) and I never heard from her again. I sometimes envisioned that she had driven off Topanga Canyon Road and died a horrible death.
Thank you for reading, Dianne. I’m sorry to hear about your friend. That’s intense! We put so much emphasis culturally on romantic break-ups, but the endings of friendships also have a deep and lasting impact.
I married a man I’d known for 3 months and indeed it didn’t end well. We like to romanticise life like it was a Woody Allen movie or a romcom, but it’s not like that. Luckily, I did have good friends to rely on and didn’t fuck up the friendship.
This was so very well written. I have experienced the loss of a friend into a lifestyle I wanted to save them from. It’s an impossible situation and can be maddening. I’m so sorry for your loss. You’ve written about it beautifully.
Thank you so much for reading. I feel like we all have a story like this. I really appreciate the thoughtful comments.
What a gorgeous, sad piece of writing. So glad she eventually got out, but so much of her light was extinguished. Thank you for sharing. You're a great friend.
Thank you so much for reading, Stephanie, and for the kind words.
Okay, talking about this for real. No fluff.
It hits a nerve because it reminds me of my friend, let's call her Sarah. Reading about you waiting in that cab, your whole body tense... man. I've been there.
For me, it was a 2 AM phone call. Her voice was this tiny, thin thing on the other end of the line. "Can you come get me?" That's all she said. I didn't even ask why. I just threw on shoes and went.
It was the same frantic energy you described. Throwing her stuff into my beat-up car, the duffel bag zipper wouldn't even close. She was looking over her shoulder the whole time, not for a person, but just... looking. Like the air itself was dangerous. I remember the streetlights were this weird orange color, and it was so quiet. The whole world felt like it was holding its breath.
We drove to my place in silence, just the sound of the engine. She stayed for a week. She cried a lot. I made her terrible coffee and we just watched dumb TV shows for hours, not really talking. It was like she was trying to remember how to be a person.
And then... he called. Of course he called. I could hear him through the phone, his voice all sweet and pleading. I saw her face change. The relief was just... it washed over her. It's so much easier to go back to the devil you know than to face the scary unknown, even if the unknown is freedom.
She went back. I helped her pack her stuff again. It felt like a defeat. It was a defeat. The friendship was never the same after that. It's like a part of her decided I was a witness to a weakness she couldn't afford to remember. We talk sometimes, but it's surface stuff. The light's gone out.
It's the hardest thing. You want to scream. You want to shake them. But all you can do is stand there, holding the door open, hoping they'll walk through it. And sometimes, they just don't. And you have to live with that. It just... sucks. There's no other word for it. It's watching a fire you love just slowly go out.
Argelia, I am so sorry you had to go through this, and I hope your friend is okay. You did your best, and that's all you can do. Thank you for reading and sharing your story.
Yes, very apt narrative. I've had a similar experience with my sister. She fled the USA from her abusive man with the help of her family, after she finally left him and fled with ther 2 small children to a women's shelter. She has never been the same since. Keeping in touch is essential for friends/relatives, as she may need our help, although we cannot make the decisons for our loved one. I have never had the wish to submit to the care and love of a man completely, even if I loved him. My sense of preservation kept me striving for independence and using my brains to analyse a tricky situation. I wish the support will be there for women in similar situations without prejudice about their decisons. As most women are raised to get married, many women keep believing in the fairytale.
Thank you for reading and sharing your story. I'm sorry to hear about your sister, I hope she is in a better place.
What struck me most was the thread between your mother’s experience and Camille’s, how you recognized echoes of your own history unfolding in hers.
There’s something haunting about watching someone repeat a pattern you’ve spent years trying to escape. It’s as though trauma travels through friendship too, finding new vessels to inhabit.
What I admire most is how you didn’t just watch history repeat, you tried to interrupt it, even knowing you couldn’t rewrite the ending. That’s a quiet bravery that doesn’t get ENOUGH credit: trying to change the emotional lineage, even if the cycle continues. You still altered it, if only by standing in witness with love instead of judgment. Thank you for sharing. 🩵
Thank you so much for reading and your thoughtful comments. I debated about including aspects of my own story in the piece. These are not easy things to share, but it’s gratifying to hear from empathetic readers.
This hit me in all the feels. I am going through this with my childhood best friend, wishing I could save her, knowing it’s not up to me. Thanks for writing this.
Thank you for reading, Sara. Best of luck to you and your friend. All we can do is try!
Oh, this essay. "But she could never make herself small enough" will stay with me... how often, as women, have we found ourselves there? Holding a tender spot for her and all of us who have.
Thank you so much for reading, Courtney, and for your kind words.
"She could never make herself small enough" Wow! After 30 years' living with a narcissist...and 20+ years after his death, how that made me shiver! Thank you, Sumitra, for that chilling truth.
You gave support, offered help. Her life course was up to her not you. Great writing.
I experienced something similar years ago w/ my best friend. She left my home intoxicated (couldn't be convinced to stay for the night) and I never heard from her again. I sometimes envisioned that she had driven off Topanga Canyon Road and died a horrible death.
Thank you for reading, Dianne. I’m sorry to hear about your friend. That’s intense! We put so much emphasis culturally on romantic break-ups, but the endings of friendships also have a deep and lasting impact.
Yes, keep talking about red flags.
I married a man I’d known for 3 months and indeed it didn’t end well. We like to romanticise life like it was a Woody Allen movie or a romcom, but it’s not like that. Luckily, I did have good friends to rely on and didn’t fuck up the friendship.