
Image borrowed from this site.
Objective reality may exist but I will never know it.
The Reality of the dissolution of my 37-year-old friendship with Hanna could not help but separate into its constituent realities when subjected to the Prism of Truth. The reconciliation of these fragments is unlikely, as I suspect the Prism has suffered too much damage to allow them a return trip even if it were possible to retrieve the individual rays and direct them backwards. I feel sure that, spouting from the Prism at different angles, these rays, or Opinions, have traveled too far and too wide in the time since our disastrous end ever to be corralled and re-fused into an Amen. Imagine rewinding onto a Popsicle stick the string of a kite which has ascended beyond your line of sight and perched at the top of Everest. Or being flattened by a violent jet of water as you push against it, bucket turned out as a shield, in a fruitless attempt to trace it back to its source and cap it.
Here are the players in that 2011 drama:
Myself: Jane
My husband, Henry.
My best friend, Hanna.
Hanna’s husband, Niko.
Our oldest daughter, Lindy.
Our middle daughter, Bec.
Our youngest daughter, Claire.
And here is what emerged from the Prism:
Niko:
I suspected our RELATIONSHIP had become a RUSE, and I was RIGHT. But I had no idea how much you RESENTED me. It must have been due to my RELAPSE during our last visit. And yet for five years you REPRESENTED everything as being fine between us. You waited patiently for your chance at RETRIBUTION, didn’t you? You waited until we visited to RETALIATE. Now you have exacted your REVENGE, and I hope you are happy. You did wreck our vacation but you did not REALIZE your aim. You did not RUIN my marriage to Hanna. In fact, you didn’t even cause a RIFT.
Hanna:
ONLY you, my OLDEST friend would know where to insert the knife and how to twist it. ONCE, I trusted you. I came to you OVERWHELMED and in OVERT need of kindness and rest, and I was made to feel like an OUTCAST, an OFFENDER. Niko is a keen OBSERVER of people, and he warned me you had changed. I OVERLOOKED his misgivings as OBSESSIVE. Your deceit should have been more OBVIOUS to me. I regret ignoring the OMENS. Thank goodness Niko and I are ONE.
Henry:
YES, this is painful, Jane. But remember it is not all about YOU. Try not to YIELD to anger. You point out that you are not YELLING but I can feel your agitation. We don’t know for sure how this story ends–it may not be over YET. Let’s get through this crisis with as much grace as we can now and save our Ys for later.
Lindy:
I feel GUILTY if I complain because Uncle Niko and Aunt Hanna are our GUESTS. I’m GOING to stay at a friend’s house for a while.
Jane:
I know I have made my share of BLUNDERS this summer but your BRAZEN disregard for our BOUNDARIES is BEYOND BELIEF. I BELIEVED in our friendship but now I just feel BULLIED and BATTERED. I am really not trying to be a BITCH, BUT…it is hard not to become BITTER when your BEST friend BETRAYS you. I can’t wait to say ‘BYE and get this visit BEHIND me.
Bec:
Mom, Uncle Niko has a mental ILLNESS. I think you are being IMPATIENT and INSENSITIVE. His INTENTIONS are good. I’ve been talking to him and Aunt Hanna, and I have gotten a lot of INSIGHT into how hard his life is.
Claire:
Hello? Am I even VISIBLE? Tell Uncle Niko to stop acting like a VICTIM and hogging all the attention.
You see? I could not present the whole. All I could do was imagine its complements, a process which is inherently tainted. Nevertheless, fairness demanded my best effort. Because, while these fragments may never fit back through the Prism, I cling to the foolish hope that they may one day coalesce into a Rainbow.
This post is part of The Story of Hanna. The prior post in the story is here. The next post is here.
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What an interesting metaphor and post. It’s all so complex, Jane, and I can see why it’s hard to take all those unique perspectives and even try to form a neat package of what occurred. Each person’s view is an expression of their experience, and therefore, a consensus is hard to come by. I wish you the benefit of clear skies as you journey through this. ❤
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It is kind of a weird post, and I am not even sure if I like it. I tried several times to articulate an aspect of the visit that has haunted me and just couldn’t get it to take form, so I wrote this instead. The truth of that fiasco will never truly untangle in any objective fashion. It was a brain– and ball–busting end to something which had once been beautiful.
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It’s an uncomfortable post, and that’s probably what it should be. It captures the stress of the situation and the frayed edges. I suppose there are times when the tangles are so bad we can’t unravel them; we are then left accepting that we each did the best we could at the time….
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RedOrangeYellowGreenBlueIndigoViolet. R O Y G B I V helped me learn the order, but never did I use the formula to sort out friends and drama. Very good technique but it is still an uncomfortable post to read, so I know it must still be difficult for you, Jane. I agree with D. Wallace, that sometimes we are left accepting that we each did the best we could at the time, and then we have to go on.
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I felt really ick about the post and almost didn’t even put it up. Interestingly, Henry really liked it. He tends to be very fair, and he is a good accountability partner for me in that area.
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Memoirs can be the most difficult writing of all. Your approach here is highly creative, and I applaud you for it. Maybe the reason I prefer writing fiction is that I’m not forced to wade through my own emotions. To those who can, without losing something of themselves in the process, I tip my hat.
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That is really interesting to me. I feel I become MORE myself and gain back bits of myself through processing my experiences in writing. I have not tried fictional stories and wonder if I could do it. I seem to think in spurts of 500-1,500 words. Maybe that is just me or maybe that is just how I am at this stage of my development. I can string together a series of essays on a theme (Family Rules, The Story of Hanna) but they hang together loosely, and the story has already been written. I do not have to invent it, just retell it.
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