The Arab/American marriage six years later

It’s difficult for me to believe we’ve been married for six years. And it’s even more difficult for me to refer to us as the ‘Arab/American’ couple.

Life for T and me is pretty much exactly what it was last year at this time… and the year before and the year before. Our cultural differences are quite minimal at this point. We’re a typical married couple living a very American life. If anything has changed it’s how close we’ve become and how much we rely on one another to truly be there and I like to believe we’re not letting one another down in that department.

Last year was a whirlwind of medical issues for me ranging from a medical malpractice issue (anyone knows a good Attorney?) to almost a year of just not feeling like myself. Like literally, I remembered the old me but had no clue how to find her again. I’m still struggling a bit, but have recently been diagnosed with Post Sepsis Syndrome which at least offers answers. My short term memory isn’t what it was before the surgical fiasco and I struggle daily with anxiety, mild depression, and all over muscle aches, but I am slowly getting better. And best of all, I’m not doing this alone. If it weren’t for the patience of my husband and him reminding me I’m not alone, I would have probably had a complete breakdown by now.

A little over a month ago we had to make the painful decision to have our precious Sultana (dog) put to sleep. She was suffering from a severe case of pancreatitis, diabetes, and a suspected long-term endocrine disorder. Her prognosis was poor. From the day she came to us from Kuwait, we had promised her she would never ever feel pain or suffer again as long she lived. In the end, we knew it was right to keep our promise to her. The decision was heartbreaking for both of us and to this day we still cry. However, we’re both slowly healing, focusing on our other pets (3 dogs/3 cats), and giving them all the love we possibly can.

When I first met my husband years ago in Kuwait our ‘dating’ was very brief at best. There was something about us that clicked. Something inside of me knew he was the person I had always hoped to find and I suppose something about me felt the same for him. Within weeks we were married and neither of us has looked back. We’ve gone through major life changes together; international relocation, families intertwining, cultural differences, home buying, businesses, jobs, as well as the things I’ve mentioned above, but we seem to do it with each other’s best interest at heart. I suppose that’s what any relationship should be, and it’s definitely been one of the things that keep us together.

Our marriage today looks absolutely nothing like it did in the first weeks, months, or even years. It’s ever-changing and evolving like everything else in life. But, for now, it appears as though it’s changed for the better. Don’t get me wrong; we’re not perfect. We argue and disagree like everyone else but we don’t hold onto those arguments. Or at least I don’t. He’s not as expressive so while I assume he’s not holding a grudge he might be visiting with the divorce Lawyer and I’m blissfully unaware.

Referring to him as ‘Arab’ and me as ‘American’ feels a bit silly at this point. I can’t look at anything in his life or how he lives and say, “Yes! That’s the Arab in him” and the same goes for me being an American. Our lives have completely meshed, and what might have seemed like different cultures in the past just feels like ‘life’ now.

For now, we’re both looking forward to Fall weather. I’ve started to invest a lot more time in photography as a way to clear my head. Not sure I’m any better at it, but I certainly enjoy it. As the weather gets cooler we seek out outdoor dining options once a week and find new places to walk afterward so I can take photos. I think he understands it’s therapeutic for me and he enjoys the walk.

Our big holiday of the year is Thanksgiving and we’re already planning for that. We host at our home every year and both his family (brothers studying here in America) and mine come for dinner. He always helps me cook and we always make far too much food, but it’s great to have everyone together for the day. Exhausting but wonderful.

I’m not sure when, or if, I’ll blog again. Sometimes I wish I could get back to it regularly, other times I want to make the entire thing private and turn it into my personal journal. Writing has always been my outlet and has allowed me to vent things I might not otherwise discuss. It’s been a method of sharing, growing, and healing when things were painful. Now, while dealing with my personal psychological changes, I don’t feel I can find words the way I once did. It’s almost a chore to put a sentence together and make it appear coherent. I feel as though my writing has become fragmented and without emotion. Stepping away and giving myself more time to overcome this battle might allow me to find me again. Here’s hoping.

Death; what is normal?

The last time I posted it was about the normalcy of life and how we’re in a simple yet satisfying routine of sorts. And then, because the philosophical side of my mind is always hard at work, I started to wonder what really quantifies normal?

Several months ago I went into the hospital for a minor, planned procedure. The procedure went terribly wrong and I was not only in the hospital for several weeks, but at times, there was the question of whether or not I would actually make it. I recall being transported to the local trauma center where I was certain I was being taken because I was dying. I felt as though I were dying. I can’t think of better words to describe it other than I simply had no energy left to fight. I could feel anything that once resembled me slipping away. I remember telling the Nurse if I were there to die that was fine, I could handle that, but that I needed her to contact my family as I wanted to see them all one last time. It was my way of accepting what I felt was inevitable, but also being allowed to take everyone’s face with me when I left. Several months later, here I am. Home. Healthy. And feeling about 90% ‘normal’ again.

On the left column of my blog home page, I have a ‘blogroll’ or a list of blogs I followed often. I created that list when I first started the blog and haven’t updated it in a few years. Some of those blogs still exist, others don’t.

When a person starts a blog (something that has been replaced by vlogging) we generally do so because we love to write, find our minds are often filled with random thoughts; sometimes important, others not at all. But most importantly, I think many of us started blogs as a way to not just vent our frustrations, but to share our experiences with others. Perhaps it was our way of offering guidance or advice even if no one was asking for it. Either way, blogging allows random strangers worldwide a glimpse into our lives. And when people follow blogs regularly we begin to feel as though we know the writer on some level. We can identify with some of their ideas or thoughts, or even accidentally find solutions to our own problems through their mistakes. We often feel some kind of ‘like’ towards the writer even if we’ve never communicated with them at all.

memory

A couple of years ago one of the bloggers I followed religiously passed away from cancer (Americanbedu.com). She was married to a Saudi man, lived in Saudi for years, and moved back to America once her husband passed away. Neither of them was old or unhealthy. They simply both lost a very long, painful battle to cancer. Carol (American Bedu) had friends and family who attempted to keep the blog alive after her passing, but it just wasn’t the same. I believe the domain has since expired and the content is gone. Every one of her thoughts, memories, and life stories — gone.

Just last week another blogger passed away from cancer. Nicole Hunter-Mostafa (thesamerainbowsend.com) was young, also married to a Saudi, and was pregnant with their second little girl when complications started. Because I don’t know her or her family I can only speculate about details, and, well, that’s just disrespectful. So I’ll share what I do know based on her willingness to tell her story to us readers. Nicole appeared to be a very happy person. Her blog posts were always uplifting and upbeat. She wasn’t one to do much ranting, even if she had things to rant about. She was so in love with her husband and their gorgeous little girl Lavender. She was thrilled to be pregnant again but her blogging slowed down immensely. She had a number of complications which resulted in extensive pain for her. She cut her summer USA trip short to get back to Saudi for pain treatment in the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Her last blog post was an overview of all she had endured but no mention of cancer. Her daughter was born not long after and she shared that with everyone on Instagram. Then, suddenly, all of her social media accounts were gone and months went by with no updates on the blog. Obviously, considering we don’t know one another, this shouldn’t have made a difference to me one way or another. But as I said before, we develop a ‘like’ for the writer of the blogs we follow. We wonder about them and hope they’re doing well. Sadly, in Nicole’s case, she wasn’t doing well. And last week, she too lost her battle with cancer.

Perhaps this is incredibly selfish of me, but because Nicole was such a brilliant writer who created beautiful images in my mind with her words, I wish she had blogged. I wish she had shared her last months with us. I wish I had known whether or not she had known. Did she know she had cancer but chose to avoid treatment as a way to save her daughter? I wouldn’t be surprised — she was deeply in love with her babies. Or was the cancer diagnosis as unexpected for her as it was for her readers? Again, I didn’t know Nicole but I am deeply saddened by her death. I loved her style of writing. The way she could create a picture book of stories with just her words. Magnificent. My heart aches for her family.

I’m not going to end this post with a sappy cliché about hugging loved ones, last days, etc. But do that anyway. And do it often. We really never know when our normal may not be recognizable.

Kuwait; racists who can’t hide

More often than not, when mentioning to people from the Middle East that my husband is from Kuwait, I’m told that GCC Arabs are seen as arrogant, prejudice, and pretty much viewed as the armpit of the region. I’m aware of this reputation and I can even understand it to a degree. However, regardless of how they’re viewed, it’s a form of racism. And, well, that’s just nasty.

Even worse than ‘local racism’ are the Westerners who move to places such as Kuwait and take on that mentality. For the most part I like to believe Westerners are raised in a world where racism is only practiced by the less intelligent, not formally educated, culture lacking cretins. Anyone with a sense of self respect is above and beyond disrespecting someone based upon the color of their skin or their nationality.

So what changes? Why do some of the white faced expats move to Kuwait and adopt their entitlement attitude? Well, for the most part they become obsessed with a lifestyle some locals pretend to be living; large villas, expensive cars, and meals at the finest restaurants every day. For the Westerners who grew up thinking Toyotas were luxury cars and Dairy Queen was a quality meal, you can see how the less fortunate could get starry eyed.

But does this also include becoming a shallow racist? It doesn’t have to.

Insecure people have a tendency to treat others in a disrespectful manner as a way of making themselves feel better. It doesn’t make them better people and it really highlights their own flaws. So, when the less fortunate Americans move to places such as Kuwait and realize they too can be racist assholes, it makes them feel better about their real existence.

Recently, in a facebook group I was asked a question about my husband. The other member was incorrect in their assumption but their question was incredibly racist and reminded me of why my husband and I have distanced ourselves from that lifestyle for so many years. We focus on offering support to the less fortunate, rescuing animals in need, and respecting people just because they’re people. We don’t judge people on the color of their skin, where they’re from, or how much money they make. We live a life that we find to be emotionally fulfilling. We don’t compare ourselves to others or attempt to compete. We want to see others be the best they can be and if we can play a role in that then we’re all for it. (sidenote: the woman in the facebook group is divorced, has a number of children, stuck in Kuwait, and is bitter towards others — not just us).

So while Kuwait is viewed as a country full of arrogant jerks, it’s really a misconception. While living there I surrounded myself with some of the most incredible people I’ve ever met in my life. Many of who are still my best friends. My husband is from Kuwait and he’s generous, kind, compassionate, and hard working. He’s not dishonest or disloyal, nor would he divorce me with a half dozen kids and offer no financial support. So while it’s always easy to point fingers and make assumptions, rarely are they accurate, and often they only reveal who you really are.

Failing or ageing?

Note: I realize I’ve spelled ‘ageing’ the British way though I’m American. And while I like to say us Americans have perfected their language (as a joke of course), I still have to suck it up on occasion and accept their written grammar/spelling is far more proper than ours.

Before I plunge into my innermost thoughts on failing and/or ageing, I would like to preface this post with sincere gratitude. During the extended ‘pauses’ in my blog I often receive emails from readers who want to know where I am, why I’m not blogging, and when or if I will start again. So appreciated. However, this time I received an email not only asking those questions, but genuinely expressing their appreciation for my words and explaining how my experiences have been motivating on many levels. You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you.

So yeah, failing or ageing?

This morning I was reading through some of my previous posts in hopes of finding some ‘blogspiration’ (was that cute or what?) and found myself motivated by my own words; I was lively, alive, embracing the world, and doing stuff! Regardless of how small that stuff was, I was doing it. And from what I read, doing it rather well.

So what’s changed?

Recently I’ve discovered a lack of motivation due to frustration. Not so long ago I didn’t even require an alarm clock. I told myself what time I needed to wake up and regardless of how few hours of sleep I would get I always seemed to be awake right on time. Also, for as long as I can remember I never required ‘lists’ for anything. I could do a week’s worth of grocery shopping and never once walk aimlessly up and down an aisle thinking, “Now what exactly am I here for?”. I might have a dozen tasks lined up for the day and not only did I remember every one of them but I was well prepared and organized. Now I almost forget where I’m going while on the road to get there and inevitably always left something behind at home. What’s happening to me? Am I simply becoming lazy? Am I not the successful person I once believed myself to be? Or is age taking its toll?

Furthermore, as I’ve mentioned on the blog, I had been working towards my MBA. Not for any particular reason as it wouldn’t have made a difference in my career, but it was a personal goal of mine. So no real pressure other than what I placed on myself. I found that I was enjoying the challenge of studying again — been a while since I was a student. Feeling my brain actually function on a different level, while sometimes painful, was quite fun. However, this summer I’m not enrolled in courses. Initially I blamed it on a recent medical procedure gone wrong which resulted in me being hospitalized for an extended period of time, but I’m better now… for the most part. Only now I seem to experience ‘brain fog’ tenfold.

I walk from one room to the next forgetting my purpose. I get dressed and prepared to go to the store and find myself standing in my living room wondering exactly where I was planning to go… and why! It’s frustrating beyond words and I genuinely have no answers. But beyond frustration is the toll it’s taking on my every day life. Because I find myself so flustered with confusion I simply quit. So that trip to the store, or the classes I intended to take, or the business meeting I arranged all end up cancelled, postponed, or simply missed. I can’t help but to think I’m caving into the ageing process and allowing myself to fail miserably. Where I once experienced a great deal of joy in my life I now find to be painful. I dread making plans as I am terrified I’ll forget them and even worse, let people down. It’s embarrassing. How do I explain to people my age and older that I’m ‘just getting forgetful’? Especially when they all seem to function as we did in our 20’s. Even now, I had a follow up sentence in my mind and as quickly as I read the previous sentence to ensure it was fitting… I forgot. So yeah, here’s a paragraph with no real summary attached.

My husband tells me to start relying more on my phone. And I have. Fortunately I have a phone which just allows me to talk as it takes notes and stores them away chronologically. Imagine my surprise when it says, “You have a meeting in 30 minutes” and I realize it’s a 45 minute drive and I haven’t even showered. I’ve learned to add notifications 24 hours in advance as well as 2 hours in advance on every reminder.

This coming from the woman who not so long ago didn’t even depend on an alarm clock.

When bridges were really roadblocks.

Do you ever think back to your past (recent or distant) and wonder why you didn’t take different action? Or why you tolerated certain behaviors? Stayed at particular jobs? Or attempted to salvage friendships/relationships that weren’t even worth your time? Do you ever just want to scream, “Past, you were a serious asshole!”?

We’ve all heard the saying, ‘don’t burn your bridges’. But what if what we once assumed were bridges were really just roadblocks preventing us from getting to where we needed to go, or being who we needed to be?

While deleting my LinkedIn account today I came across a few ‘connections’ that took me into a reminiscent place. A kinda dark one even. I remember the General Manager who was outright incompetent and wondered why I wasn’t more aggressive in conveying that message to him. And the Engineering Manager who got promoted based upon the length of her skirt, behaved like a cheap prostitute, and treated some hard working highly educated people like cattle. She was the epitome of unprofessional and having to deal with her from an HR standpoint was genuinely painful. Oh, then there was the ‘Legal dude’ who I often wondered if he graduated high school yet always claimed to have graduated with honors from some prestigious law school in the UK.

memories

The memories of the professional relationships took me to thoughts of the more personal ones. The blogger from Kuwait I befriended who smelled like a 14 year old boy going through puberty who just got out of gym class and hadn’t discovered the miracles or deodorant. Why did I pretend I couldn’t smell him while I was quietly throwing up in my mouth? Or the guy who contacted me through the blog, asked to meet regarding a possible job (for him), had zero prior experience, no high school diploma (though he was 30+ and married with kids), and then conveniently ‘forgot his wallet’ after we ordered (I think we met at a coffee shop if I remember correctly). Why didn’t I say, “Oh, you have no money? Let’s cancel your order before we get started discussing your substandard CV/resume that you’re wasting my time with.”? The most amusing part of that meeting? At the end of my hour long waste of time guiding him on what he might want to do to secure employment he asked if I might be willing to give him some ‘pocket change’ because I must have a high salary. Why did I politely explain that I never carry cash? Why didn’t I scream, “Duuuuuuuudeeeee! Could you be any more of a loser if you tried?” Then of course there was the lovely guy who came to our office to present contracts for his rather large organization in Kuwait. Very professional and we had discussed me doing some consulting, writing ethics manuals, corporate policies, etc. Seemed incredibly professional and respectful. I realized I couldn’t have been more wrong when I woke up the next morning to 12 photos of his penis in my text messages. Yes, folks… Mr. Professional felt I may enjoy seeing his (less than) manly parts before we conducted business! Why did I just block him and avoid all future contact? Why didn’t I reply with ‘hahahahahahahaha’ and call the police?

So why all the venting now? Resentful? Angry? No. I don’t think so. I think it’s just that I’ve come to a place in my life where I’ve gained a great deal of strength and self esteem. Perhaps those things happened to me because, well, I allowed them to. Maybe somewhere deep inside I felt it was the best I deserved from others so I accepted nonsensical crap. I claimed I was letting things roll off my back but maybe that wasn’t it at all though it felt like it at the time. Maybe I wasn’t being strong, but instead I was being weaker than I had ever been in my life. And certainly weaker than I am today.

Now, as I sit here in yoga pants, a sweat shirt, and hair pulled up on my head looking like a meme of the typical housewife, I find myself wanting to reach out to my past and clear the air so to speak. But, since I don’t keep in touch with any of those people and have zero desire to speak with them, I can only clear the air with myself. I can simply remind myself that I am better, I deserve better, and I will never accept that level of bullshit from anyone else. Ever!

And at the same time I can secretly hope at least one of those assholes still reads my blog.

Intercultural marriages; where to live?

When my husband and I were first married 4 years ago the question of where to live came up… a lot. No, not which city, or which neighborhood. We had to decide which side of the world we were going to call home, settle, and plan our future in. This meant one of us was going to spend much of the year away from the country and culture where we spent our childhood and made a number of memories.

By the time we were married I had already lived in the Middle East for a decade, so in a lot of ways it too was my home. However, all of my family was still in America. All of my memories and childhood friends as well. But, my family is quite small, consisting of only 4 immediate family members. While my husband, on the other hand, has about 25 immediate family members. Then of course there’s the cousins, the aunts, uncles, etc. I don’t have any of those in my family. So staying in Kuwait seemed like the logical choice. But, it wasn’t the the choice we made.

After a couple of years of marriage I started longing for life in America. We visited several times a year, but it just wasn’t the same. And with each visit I was reminded of so many things I truly missed a lot more than I had previously thought. My husband, being one who never meshed with his culture, also started missing things from America. So, we packed up most of our belongings and our beloved cats and made the move.

Should all women married to Arab men expect he’ll be willing to do the same? Probably not. That culture is deeply rooted in family. And for a man to make the decision to move to the other side of the world with his Western wife is a pretty big decision. But, over the past several years I have met a number of American/Kuwaiti couples of have relocated to America together. I’ll admit, I was surprised.

So, how is life now that we’ve been here a couple of years? Well, we’re completely acclimated, have a large group of awesome friends, invest a great deal of time into the happiness of our furry family members, have our favorite coffee shops, restaurants, and a solid schedule. We live what most people would consider the ‘typical American life’ and we couldn’t be happier. I’ll occasionally ask my husband how he feels about the possibility of moving back to Kuwait one day and he doesn’t seem to be to keen on the idea. Right now he’s perfectly happy with a few visits a year to spend quality time with the family. And I suppose I’m OK with that too.

The year of me; getting healthy, getting strong, feeling great

At some point last year it dawned on me my entire adult life has been dedicated to others in some manner. This hadn’t been an issue or even a topic of conversation while living abroad because I still found time to travel, spend days at the salon, and submerge myself in luxurious comforts anytime I saw fit. Since getting married, starting a business, adopting 20 additional legs, moving to America, and acquiring a variety of livestock that must be fed on a daily basis, ‘me time’ seems to have gotten lost. Don’t get me wrong, I look around at my current life and wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m genuinely happy beyond measure and fully realize how fortunate I am to be afforded this life. But it doesn’t mean the selfish little girl who has always resided within has moved away. She’s still here and she sometimes screams, “Hey, isn’t it pedicure day?”

Several months ago, before the end of 2014, I made the announcement to my husband; the ‘year of me’ announcement. I simply explained I felt it would be a good idea if all of 2015 was dedicated to me, my well being, and the simple pleasures I truly enjoy in life. Of course my plan was to do this without requiring anyone else to sacrifice and without neglecting my responsibilities. I mean, I am still an adult after all. Perhaps not by choice… but, well. My husband, being the kind understanding guy he is, welcomed the idea with open arms which really translated to, “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about but yeah, sure, OK.” Fortunately I had a pretty strong grasp on my plan and felt comfortable with the idea of investing an entire year to me.

Since January I’ve made a number of positive (in my opinion) changes in my life which not only help to boost my self esteem but also play a role in my overall health. I’ve gone on a very healthy diet, lost a significant amount of weight, incorporated regular exercise into my days, and pay very close attention to what goes into my body, ie. vitamins, proteins, etc. I’ve cut out all sodas (including diet drinks) and only drink water with lemon or green tea with lemon and mint when I’m not downing a protein shake. My energy level has increased so much I find that I don’t even miss coffee/espresso. I’ve also decided since I’m working on the inside I also deserve to work on the outside; self esteem purposes. I accept that I’m aging, it’s part of life. But it doesn’t mean I have to look worn out or diminished in any way. So, I’ve opted for monthly IPL laser treatments, chemical peels, micro-needling, and after the summer I’ll possibly do a bit of fillers and Botox. My goal is simply to be a healthier version of myself, not to alter my current appearance.

More recently I’ve also been viewing a few travel options and contemplating some places I haven’t been yet. But, planning travel always leaves us with the question of pet care — a stressful topic — so for now I’ll postpone lengthy vacations and embrace my mini-staycations.

I’ve also decided this is the year I’ll invest more time into my friends. We often assume our long time (or new) friends will always be there when we need them. But if we’re not doing our part as a friend, then perhaps they won’t be. I like to believe I’m a good friend but there’s always more I could do to maintain those truly important friendships.

Then there’s blogging; a hobby I’ve enjoyed for more than a decade. Sadly, it just doesn’t seem I have the time I once had though sometimes the desire is certainly still there. But, as much as blogging has been a part of my life, it’s changed. The format has changed, the ideas behind it, and even the audience. Blogging was once a form of expression and a way to vent for many of us. Sadly most of those blogs are long since gone and we’re left with pages of paid advertisements or dishonest reviews where the effort invested is directly aligned with the money they were paid to write it. Most bloggers have moved on to Instagram, Snap Chat, and other forms of social media. For me… even those became tedious.

I digress…

I’m so fortunate to have a life which allows me to embrace this ‘year of me’ and a husband who supports it… even if he really has no idea what he’s supporting. But one thing I’ve learned these past few months is that regardless of my adult responsibilities genuinely taking some time to invest in my personal well-being is priceless, and well deserved. Sometimes, in everyone’s life, we tend to focus on the here and now and kinda forget that being a little selfish from time to time isn’t a crime. If anything, it’s often that extra oomph we need to get through some of those hectic days. So yeah, I guess we could say my inner child is the healing power my outer adult has always needed.

My expat interview.

As people are contemplating a move abroad they often seek out a number of available resources in hopes of getting a little insight into their new ‘home’. I get a number of emails from those preparing to take that plunge and jet off to the fabulous land of sand I call home; Kuwait. Over the years I’ve hoped my blog has helped out some of those expats in finding a sense of comfort in Kuwait. The readers are the reason I’ve continued to blog as long as I have… and as boring as I’ve become. I don’t check stats, I’m not in a numbers competition, I just enjoy knowing I might be helping someone out there in the cyber world. Whether it’s someone who is taking a new job in Kuwait, or someone who’s considering marriage to a Kuwaiti — I hope I’ve helped.

Recently I was contacted by the lovely Erin at Blog Expat and asked if I would be willing to participate in an interview about my life and experience as an expat in Kuwait. Though I’ve never been into self promotion, blog promotion, or any type of ‘look at me’ behavior, I was honored by her request because I have such a great deal of respect for their site. It really is the go to website for expats planning a move to any country! I truly admire the effort they’ve invested in putting together such a fabulous wealth of information.

So yeah, if you’re interested in reading more about me, my life, my experiences, and what life in Kuwait as an expat (from my perspective) is like, you can find my interview here. Or on the badge to the right, near the bottom of the page titled ‘expat interview’.

The disposable friend

The other day I called a friend of mine who I hadn’t talked to for maybe a month or so to see how they’re doing. I know they’re facing some challenges and I like to check in on them from time to time. Sometimes, even if there’s nothing a friend can really do to help, it’s nice to know someone cares enough to call and ask. Well, after this most recent call I’ve learned not to bother myself again. It went something like this;

Me: Hey there, how ya doing?
Friend: Fine.
Me: How are the kids? The family? Work?
Friend: Good.
Me: (feeling a bit awkward by this obvious one-sided conversation) Are you busy? Were you sleeping?
Friend: Nope.
Me: Hmmm. OK. How’s the significant other? (a new person my friend had mentioned previously and expressed how happy this person makes them)
Friend: Good. And why the interrogation?
Me: (trying to make light of their rudeness) It’s interrogation day! 
Friend: Not for me it’s not.
Me: Look, I simply called to see how you’re doing as I know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately and have always been here when you’ve needed me. Thought it would be nice to let you know I was thinking of you and hope all is well. However, I certainly don’t need this drama or negativity and have no intentions of tolerating it. Take care. 

Perhaps there were a few more questions (attempts on my part to hold a conversation) and maybe my final response was a bit more expressive than I’ve written here. I can’t remember verbatim. But I do know it’s terribly rude for someone to provide one word responses without any further explanation. Busy? Tell me! Don’t feel like talking? Tell me! Bothered by something? Tell me! But don’t dare treat me as if I’m bothering you or being intrusive when I’ve always been there when you needed a friend. It’s rude and terribly disrespectful. And quite frankly, I’m not interested in being made to feel ‘disposable’.

I firmly believe friends are people we can turn to for anything. We laugh together, cry together, share secrets with one another, lean on each other in times of need, and most of all… we’re loyal. Just because life changes or new people have entered doesn’t mean the loyal friends should be disposed of. And definitely not this loyal friend! I’ve really reached a place in life where my friendships are truly valuable. I absolutely love my friends and the time we have together. And I like to believe they feel the same about me. So when someone disrespects that friendship then I take it personally. It makes me feel as though I was only ‘good enough’ when they needed me around… on their terms. But otherwise there’s just no place for me in their life. Then to be rude on top of all that? Eh. No thanks. It’s best to wish them well and remove yourself from their toxicity.

So, to the fair-weathered ‘friend’ who doesn’t see the value of the friendship we once had… your loss. And don’t act like you’re not reading; we both know better.