Breaking Up With Women

A friend shared the following Facebook Reel that I thought was worth passing along. As grateful as I am for my male readers, this message is primarily for the ladies - although there is certainly a message in it for all of us. It rang a bit too true for me and I thought you might feel the same.

Breaking Up With Women Facebook Reel

You can also find it on YouTube here:

Breaking Up With Women Poem

I share this reel in humble recognition of my own guilt in being far too quick to put my “sisters” in the rearview mirror. I’ve experienced a great deal of painful rejection and abandonment in my life - sometimes even by my closest and dearest friends. Because of these wounds, I’ll admit that I’ve probably let beloved friendships slip away without a fight.

Rebecca Dupas’ poem convicted me with its poignant reminder: we can get so caught up in the fact that someone hasn’t called us that we forget to stop and ask if they are okay. While I usually do consider whether a friend I haven’t heard from is okay, there are moments when my rejection trauma gets the better of me. In those moments, I jump to conclusions: They don’t care about me. They’re judging me. Or whatever story I’ve managed to create in my head. So instead of reaching out, I lick my wounds, say goodbye without ever saying goodbye, wish them well from afar, and move on.

Recently, I found myself on the brink of losing a treasured friendship because of this very pattern. My friend had promised to call me on a particular day if she could. When I didn’t hear from her that day (or in the weeks that followed), I made assumptions. I convinced myself that she didn’t care and let my abandonment story take over. Then, when she eventually reached out, I was so lost in my internal narrative that I completely overlooked her request for me to let her know when I was available to talk. It wasn’t until she reached out again that we finally had an honest conversation.

In that conversation, I laid my feelings bare and admitted that the misunderstanding was entirely on me. I had let my insecurities and assumptions get the better of me and recognized how unfair that was to my friend. I vowed to her - and to myself - that I would learn from this experience. It was a humbling moment of realization - I had almost let my pride and stubbornness cost me a wonderful friendship over nothing.

This experience forced me to confront a sad truth: we often give the men in our lives chance after chance. I’ve certainly made the mistake of reconnecting with men who “damn near ruined my life” and continuing to offer them friendship. And yet, when it comes to my female friendships, I’ve been far quicker to say goodbye over a misstep or misunderstanding. Why is that? Why is it that I’ve been more willing to extend grace to men than to the women who have held me up?

As I listened to Rebecca Dupas’ insightful words, I felt determined to do better by the women I love. Yes, there are times when we have to let people go. Sometimes their wounds cause behavior that is too hurtful to allow, or the relationship has reached its natural end. But more often than not, I need to set aside my pride, pick up the phone, and simply ask, “Are you okay? Are we okay? Let’s talk about it.”

I’m learning that my worth is not tied to how well I meet someone else’s needs, and I want to extend that same grace to the women in my life. I don’t want to measure their worth by how perfectly they meet my expectations or needs. Instead, I want to fight for my female friendships with the same determination and grace that I hope to receive in return.

So here’s my commitment:

I will not let my pain, my pride, or my fear of rejection keep me from showing up for the women I care about. I will forgive more freely, communicate more openly, and love more fiercely.

Are you with me, sisters? Let’s fight for each other. Let’s be the lifelines, the safe havens, and the mirrors we all need. Together, let’s rewrite the stories we tell ourselves - about each other and about ourselves - and choose connection over fear.

With all my heart,