How to Get Over Being Ghosted

I didn’t even know what the term meant.  I thought ghosting was when you slink out of a party without saying goodbye.  I didn’t realize you could apply the term to a relationship as a whole.  

Wikipedia defines ghosting as “breaking off a relationship (often an intimate relationship) by ceasing all communication and contact with the former partner without any apparent warning or justification, as well as ignoring the former partner's attempts to reach out or communicate.” 

If you’ve ever been ghosted or are being ghosted right now, you understand the ensuing feelings of confusion, hurt, shock, or likely all three.  According to an article in Psychology Today, “ghosting is a passive-aggressive interpersonal tactic that can leave psychological bruises and scars.”

The open-ended nature of being ghosted makes processing said ghosting nearly impossible.  What did I do?  Why the silence?  Am I a shitty person?  Why won’t this person talk to me?  The questions and self-doubt seem endless.  Which is why I want to share with you my ghosting experience (as a Ghostee and a Ghoster), and hopefully make your journey a little less painful and a lot more positive. 

Here are some vital questions to ask yourself:

1) AM I BETTER OFF?  

The insidious nature of being ghosted means you never really know the reason for the ghosting, but my most recent (and painful) ghosting experience was -- I believe, like a lot of ghostings experienced lately — politically motivated.  The Ghoster had become increasingly conservative over the years while I stayed the same old progressive I had always been.  

But she was a best friend I had been very close with since we were teenagers.  We went through a LOT together.  And though we began to differ politically over the years, I place a high value on my friends and our histories, and couldn’t imagine just cutting one loose over politics.  To quote the smarmy Steff from Pretty In Pink, “I wouldn’t trash a perfectly good friendship over it.”  I thought our friendship could survive anything, even the rise of Trump.  Turns out I was wrong.

When it became apparent I was being ghosted, my immediate reaction was complete bafflement.  Really?  After all these years of friendship… really?  Really?  I couldn’t get over it.  What on earth could possibly come between us?  We hadn’t had a fight or even so much as a disagreement.  Nobody had fucked anybody’s husband.  Nobody had caused bodily or psychological harm to anybody’s children.  Nobody had even so much as posted an unflattering photo on social media.  Could it have been that orange narcissist in the White House?  Preposterous.

And then I spent some time thinking.  And looking at things from different angles.  And getting some distance from this person.  And realizing that for all our closeness over the years, there had been patterns of passive-aggressive, possessive and jealous behavior.  Like, since the beginning.

I remembered there had been times I tried to inconspicuously step back from the relationship when it became apparent we were so different and our ideas of friendship were so different.  There was a lot of dysfunction.  I had this image of what a supportive, loving BFF was supposed to be, and on a deep level I knew this wasn’t it. 

Things that went well in my life, the little triumphs or big happy occurrences were met by the Ghoster with sullen, weird silences.  But always I was pulled back in by that whole “we have so much history together!” notion. 

But history does not make a true friendship.  

And I realized something:  Holy crap, she did me a huge favor.  The months that went by only increased my energy level and gratitude.  She wasn’t there to drain it anymore.

I also realized something else:  Do I really want someone in my life who can’t even be bothered to pick up the phone and have a conversation?  Who thinks that I’m worth so little?  Maybe bring a little dignity to ending a relationship that had weathered so many storms but had simply run its course?  Instead, the cruelest Silent Treatment was deployed.  A Ghoster is not capable of having a mature relationship where real, loving communication happens.  

And I just don’t need that shit in my life.  

Neither do you.  If you can’t even talk to me, there is nowhere to go in the friendship.

2) ARE YOU NEGLECTING SOME FRIENDS WHO ACTUALLY LOVE YOU AND WOULD NEVER STOOP TO GHOSTING YOU?  

In the months following the above ghosting, I took a little inventory  and realized this:  I was surrounded by a lot of good, solid, caring friends, and the loss of the Ghoster did not diminish this fact.  I reached out to them and made an effort to spend more time with them, during which it became clear that they really loved me and supported me, and with the Ghoster no longer bleeding me dry, I had more energy to love and support them, which is what friendship is all about.  

I also noticed something really cool:  I started making new friends everywhere I went.  People I had lots in common with, who seemed genuinely interested in me, who had similar value systems.  I didn’t set out to make these friends; they simply appeared.  Like a vacuum being filled.  It was a reminder that I am a good and worthy person, that God was looking out for me (as always), and that the Ghoster’s efforts at making me feel unworthy of friendship or even acknowledgment had failed.

3) IS KARMA BEING A LITTLE BITCH?  

Look into your past, even deeply if you dare.  Have you ever ghosted someone?  Even someone who “deserved” it?

I ghosted a very close friend many years ago, and the memory came back to haunt me when I became the Ghostee.  

I was in my late 20s, and it became increasingly clear that said friend had a drinking problem.  Not only had I become tired of the constant flaking, but one day at a pool party, I watched her down six Coronas and chain-smoke whilst three months into a planned pregnancy.  I’ve never really been a judgy person, but that was tough.  The next time she flaked on plans we had made, I decided I just couldn’t anymore.  I didn’t respond to her email and that’s the last we saw or heard of each other.

I justify it in my mind now by saying well, she didn’t fight very hard for the friendship.  I was young and immature.  What was I supposed to do?  But the truth is, there is plenty I could have done.  This friend put me up in her tiny apartment when I was going through a divorce and reeling from the pain.  She would show up at my house with champagne on my birthday.  She sent faxes (for you young people, an antiquated form of communication) that constantly reminded me that she loved me and cared about me.  She may have had some addiction issues that I had to separate myself from, but I could have at least communicated as much to her to stop her from wondering why I was no longer in her life.  It’s a difficult conversation to have, but when you love somebody (I loved her very much, and still do), it’s what you do, dammit.

If you ghosted somebody, don’t beat yourself up about it, but make a vow that you will never be so callous with another human being again.  Learn from your mistake.  The uncomfortable conversation sucks — nobody likes to do it!— but you can go through the rest of your life knowing that you treated everyone with integrity, honesty and value.  Also, look for the lesson.  You will always find it!

R.I.P. Samuel L. Hound-Dog (2004? - 2018)

After the past month or so of being unable to deny that he was old and in pain, we made the decision to end Sammy’s suffering this past Friday.  He could no longer enjoy his greatest loves of going for walks, playing with his giant sex-toy-looking toy, and performing the Happy Wiggle Butt dance.  The morning of the appointment, when it hurt him too much for me to even lift him and he cried out, I knew the timing was right and we had made the right decision.   

I’ve never had a dog like Sammy before, and I have had many.  He was a brawny, muscle-y dog, feared by some because of how he looked.  And though he could be obstinate at times and loved to challenge my status as the Alpha, he never once showed the slightest hint of aggression toward any person, big or small.  His sense of duty in protecting us, especially our kids, was fierce.  I could not walk him to pick up the kids from school, because any other dog near them was seen as a threat and he would make a scene.  He was not welcome at the dog kennel anymore because when I took him there, the other dogs became a threat and he had to be isolated.  We had to get in-home dog sitters every time we went out of town.  His sense of intuition and protectiveness caused him a good deal of anxiety.  

 I remember taking him and the boys down to the creek one day when the boys were little.  There were some vagrant druggie types hanging around down there, telling loud stories, dropping F-bombs while the kids played barefoot in the creek.  I thought poor Sammy was going to lose his mind.  He cried and howled, looking in the direction of those guys, looking at the kids, then looking at me like I was insane.  How could I let my children be around those noisy people with the weird body language? He seemed to be pleading with me.  He was not calm until we got out of there.  That was Sammy.

He was a pain in the ass in lots of ways, but especially because of his breed.  When we first moved to SLO and had to rent a place, we were denied several of our choice of pet-friendly places simply because they would not allow a dog who looked like him.

He was macho and believed it was his right to lift his leg on whatever he wanted — houseplants, Christmas trees, hubcaps.  I’m a good dog trainer, but could never train that out of him.  He was terrified of the wind and of fireworks, and would pant and pace the house all night every July 4^th and during windstorms.  But for every night I lost sleep because of him, there were thousands of nights I slept like a baby knowing he was on watch.

 At times I was looking to find another home for him.  When you have small children and other pets and obligations clamoring for your attention every minute of every day, you don’t have much left over for an anxiety-ridden pet.  At times I just couldn’t take it; I didn’t want to resent any pet in my home.  There are no-kill shelters in the area that would take him and find him a good home, but I could never bring myself to do it.  He was found on a freeway on-ramp for God’s sake.  Escaped from people who feared him and kept him tied to a stake in their yard 24/7, a pack of hot dogs thrown at him so he wouldn’t starve.  He was meant to be with us, to eat real food and be sheltered inside at night, to have a job he was good at.  As much as I felt inconvenienced by him at times, I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else having him.  Other dogs were compelled to attack him, even tiny little dogs would burst out of their yards and come after Sammy, who was always on his leash.  What if he was attacked and I wasn’t there to protect HIM?  I couldn’t allow that.  His golden years would be spent with us.  

 As it turns out, it was more like his golden weeks.  The decline happened that fast.  And when the end came, I cried so much harder and longer than I thought I would.  I realized while it was happening that I was also grieving for the kids who were killed just hours before in Florida in yet another senseless and preventable horror show.  And crying for their parents who would never hold their children again, whose broken hearts would never heal.  Who never got the chance to say goodbye.  

When the life silently left his body, his beautiful tawny fur was still as shiny and soft as ever, his muscle tone still sturdy.  He simply looked like he was sleeping.  And I was able to say goodbye and let him go.