I was really fortunate to have my maternal grandmother live in neighboring town my whole life. It was a small(er) town that boasted miles and miles of farmland. She, too, lived on a decent- sized farm plot that had rows and rows of almond and pecan trees. It was a great place (and space) for school-aged kiddos, like my brother and me, to romp around and play.
In her large front yard she had a few olive trees. If I had to guess I'd say that the olive trees were already present when my grandmother purchased her house. She certainly didn't utilize the olives that it produced, and spent most of the time complaining about the mess the dropping make. But for a young Wifey they were the perfect tree(s) to climb.
I remember one day my grandmother allowing me to prune the tree. Why? Not sure. I assume it was mostly driven by: my boredom, my grandmother sucking me in with "a special job," and, most importantly, getting to use some huge cutting shears. My grandmother briefly explained that cutting back some of the old, withering limbs would help new ones to grow in, and keep the tree healthy.
So, I sat in the tree with cutting shears.
And I pruned. And pruned. And pruned.
After coming back to check on me my grandmother exclaimed that I did my job a little too well and that I should move on to another olive tree. She explained that pruning too much might traumatize the tree so much that it won't grow. (I'm paraphrasing here. I'm sure my grandmother didn't use the word "traumatize.")
Fast forward to the present. Specifically the past few months. Being that we're far away from our family and close, close friends we've had to branch out and create new friends from scratch. Living in a mostly isolated area- and in the military- I've/ we've had to rely on our friends more than we traditionally would. They become more than just friends or close friends- they, essentially, become our family.
It's interesting for me to reflect on my friendships here. I have a lot in common with some friends... others I don't, but it doesn't effect the dynamics of the friendship. (If anything it makes it stronger and more enjoyable.) Most of the friendships that I've taken part of here weren't friendships at all but mere fragments sprinkled into convenience, social graces, and isolation.
Where does the line of social grace end and you, as a person, begin? At what point do you end a friendship that you know isn't going to- or never will- work? Would you be able to take your shears and cut away?
I did. I ended it.
The people-pleaser in me wanted so desperately to fix everything. I realized that there's no way I could. Ever. Another part of me wanted so badly to walk away screaming expletives, hoping to make the other party feel the way they made me feel. No point- it'd be a waste and fall on deaf ears. In a twisted way- part of me didn't want to let go in a way that I cannot explain. But if I didn't I'd be supplying fuel for the fire.
So, for the past few months I've been sitting up in my friendship tree, shutting my eyes tight as I take the shears and prune. I hated watching the limbs fall to the ground. For awhile I sat in the tree just staring at the limbs haphazardly scattered across the grass. It struck me how many limbs there were. It kind of hurt. But I did it.
And you know what? I don't miss the "friendships." Part of me instinctively knew the whole time that it wasn't going to work. Another part of me knew that some of the friendships were never, ever going to work but social graces kept roping me in.
Now? The excess and unnecessary are gone. Now as I sit up in my little tree I can see the friendships that mean the most to me. The ones that support me, make me laugh, encourage, challenge, push, and inspire. I even have a couple new ones sprouting.
My tree is stronger. I know that whenever storms come my way I'll have some great branches to hold onto for support.
Time to put the shears away.
