Ghosting

In recent years, a new term has emerged to define an old phenomenon: "ghosting." To "ghost" someone means to end a relationship with someone suddenly and without explanation, by stopping all forms of communication and apparently dropping off the face of the earth. Ghosting is as old as time, but is even easier to accomplish in our text and message-heavy society. Being ghosted feels horrible. It is like gas-lighting, when you imagine you are going crazy. Why did the person suddenly withdraw from all communication? Why are texts and messages no longer returned? Did we have a true relationship before, or am I imagining that, too?

Today, however, it occurred to me that as horrible as this behavior is - I have engaged in, too. I am someone who prides myself on responding to all texts, getting back to people on emails in a timely message, following through on communication. But about 10 years ago, I definitely ghosted someone.

Ten years ago, Daniel was a year old. I had breastfed for the year and had a large freezer supply of pumped milk on hand I had pumped and not used. I was unsure what to do with the frozen milk, but had read online that such milk could often be donated person-to-person. I joined a Yahoo so-called "Milk Sharing" Group and posted I had a large amount of frozen milk to give to someone in the Orlando area. The replies came in by the dozens. Not at a single person was in the Orlando area or even close. But many had very passionate, heart-felt pleas for the frozen milk - and lived across the country. One of these was a very sweet, kind email from a woman with a premature baby unable to produce enough breast milk - and who lived not in Florida, but in New England.

I was completely overwhelmed at this point in my life. I had two small children. I was finishing up a PhD. We had just depleted a large amount of our savings over the last year because of paying for two children in daycare. But I reached out to this one particular response and said I would try to send the milk to her. I sent her my medical records to show I was healthy. We talked about the need to overnight the frozen breast milk so the milk could be kept frozen. I agreed I would work on getting things ready for her.

And then, this is the horrible part. I ghosted her. I was so tired. The thought of figuring out logistics for mailing frozen breast milk seemed insurmountable. I could have handled this in so many ways. I could have bucked down and figured out how to mail the breast milk. I could have asked for people from the recipient. Or, most logically, I could have written her a heartfelt email myself, explaining that I had agreed to send her my frozen supply under the best of attentions, but I did not have the energy to carry this through for an out-of-state donor. I did none of these actions. I simply quit emailing and dropped off the face of the earth. The part I am most ashamed of - this sweet lady sent me a nice email after several weeks and asked if I was still planning to send her the milk? I ignored the email. I had the perfect opportunity to state what was going on, and, still, I ignored it because I was embarrassed I had not held up my end of the agreement and did not know how to explain I was backing out.

This is not excusable. I should have acted in a much more mature fashion. But yet, thinking about my behavior in ghosting someone, it gives me a bit of insight into when someone else engages in this behavior. In my case, my ignoring the lady had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. I was embarrassed. I was tired. I was overwhelmed. And when people drop off after communicating with us, perhaps they, too are tired or overwhelmed or embarrassed or dealing with something we do not understand.

I am not defending ghosting. And this kind of behavior is infinitely more hurtful when it happens with someone with whom we have a close relationship. But it helps me to remember that it often isn't about us at all. And I am very sorry that I ghosted you, Sweet Mama with the Premature Baby, and I wish I had handled it differently.