Letting Go of a Toxic
Friend
Sometimes I have
to let go of someone—not because they’re a bad person, but because I can’t stop
myself from letting them activate my codependent triggers.
In my past, I
had a friend I’d known for over twenty years. There was a long history of
shared experiences, trust, and closeness—or at least, what I thought was
closeness. I had asked her twice if she wanted to be my girlfriend. She said no
both times, and I respected that. I didn’t pressure her, and I wouldn’t have
asked a second time except that her behavior confused me. Whenever we went
somewhere, she treated me like a boyfriend—but I was the only one paying.
Always.
After a
particularly expensive outing, I worked up the courage to ask again if there
was any possibility of a romantic relationship. When she declined, I told her I
wanted to be treated like any other friend going forward: we’d pay our own way
for trips and activities. She agreed. But when it came time to follow through,
things changed. She stopped wanting to do anything that cost money—even though
she was a half-a-millionaire. Her idea of a meal out became lunch at soup
kitchens. If we did go somewhere nice, I ended up paying anyway. Once, I didn’t
order anything just to avoid footing the bill again. Somehow, she still managed
to manipulate me into paying for her sandwich.
The breaking
point came during a weekend retreat that I paid for—again—for her and two of
her friends. During the retreat, I felt emotionally abandoned. She took my car
and disappeared for hours to go garage sale shopping. On the drive home, one of
her friends and I had a conflict. My long-time friend ignored me and rushed to
console the other person, as if I didn’t even exist. Something inside me
snapped.
It wasn’t just
that weekend. I suddenly saw the past twenty years in a different light. All
the moments of giving, of rescuing, of being the reliable one. I felt used,
abandoned, and emotionally invisible.
After sitting
with that clarity, I made a difficult but necessary decision: I ended the
relationship. Looking back, I recognize that I had tremendous difficulty
setting and enforcing healthy boundaries with this particular person. I don’t
know why she had that power over me. And the truth is—I stopped trying to
figure it out. I realized something much more important: How I feel about
myself in a relationship is far more important than how I feel about the other
person—or how they feel about me.
That realization
was a turning point. Yes, I had a problem with boundaries in that relationship.
But I also learned something essential: It’s okay to avoid people who
consistently trigger my need to set and enforce boundaries I struggle to hold.
That’s not a failure—it’s self-respect.
As the CoDA
literature says, “We can develop and maintain healthy relationships, first with
ourselves and then with others.” That means prioritizing my own peace and
safety. It means recognizing when a dynamic repeatedly draws me into
resentment, obligation, or silent suffering—and choosing to step away.
Another quote
from CoDA reminds me: “I do not have to accept unacceptable behavior. I have
choices and can take responsibility for my own well-being.” CoDA teaches
me that I am responsible for my own well-being. Sometimes, that means walking
away from people I care about. It doesn’t mean I hate them or that they’re
terrible. It means I choose peace over confusion. I choose integrity over
enabling. I choose me.
And as CoDA
affirms, “I am a precious and worthy human being. I deserve love, respect, and
to be treated with dignity.”
Byrle S.
05.16.2025
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