Chasing Poltergeists of Past Friends and Selves
We’ve all been there. Ghosting is normalized now in casual dating and even job seeking. Most of us have ghosted a friend, or been ghosted by one. I imagine most adults, and many young people, are haunted by either those people who disappeared on us, or the complicated mix of guilt and relief after ghosting.
We ghost for a variety of reasons. In casual relationships—especially the early days of dating—the process is often more informed by a lack of spark than an active problem. In relationships with more depth or history, ghosting happens for one of two reasons: passive circumstances (we’re over-scheduled, in different time zones or in different life stages) or active problems (there’s betrayal or hurt or a list of needs unmet). The haunting effect that lingers isn’t the simple fact of ghosting, it’s that we don’t know in which category our ghosting belongs. Was it circumstances out of our control or did we have A Problem? Is it you or is it me?
The distinction brings to my Generation X mind the movie “Poltergeist,” which attempted to delineate between poltergeists and a haunting that seemed to contradict the film’s title: “Poltergeists are usually associated with an individual. Hauntings seem to be connected with an area. A house, usually. Hauntings can go on for years.”
While the Freelings of “Poltergeist” more likely had a haunting since their House Area was a forgotten cemetery, I appreciate the film’s clunky effort to seek the source in order to find a solution. When we are haunted by ghosts in our own lives, it may be helpful to seek the source to either set the ghost free—clean the house, as it were— or learn to live with it.
The trouble is: it’s nearly impossible to figure out the reason when the ghost is silent. As they usually are.
We mentally hunt these poltergeists for years yearning for answers, or we may seek advice. The podcast Dear Sugars—hosted by the smart and warm Cheryl Strayed and Steve Almond—recently reran such an episode, “Haunted by Ghosting,” where a woman sought insight into her own most painful haunting: a longtime best friend who had always been there for her during rough times had stopped responding to phone calls. While Steve and guest Tim Kreider seemed to say it was just the passive circumstances of a relationship evolving naturally with time, Cheryl neared an important point: “She did say to you that she communicates best via text, but in trying to get in touch with her, you called. Maybe send her a text.”
As these advisors soft-pedaled both problem and solution, it reminded me of the first de-ghosting attempt in “Poltergeist,” when Zelda Rubenstein prematurely patted herself on the back for successfully shepherding Diane to fetch Carol Anne. Hearing Cheryl shrug off the caller’s side of her predicament, I nearly yelled into my Airpods, scaring my dog on our usually silent morning walk: “This house is not clean, people!”
Buried in the quick guidance about texting, I heard root cause. This friend told you how she wants to stay in touch, and you ignored her. What else did she ask for that you ignored? She was always there when you needed her, were you there when she needed you? Caller could do with a little less shrugging, a little more introspection. Sometimes it is about us.
When not even an advice columnist can take a hard look at the active problems in a ghosting, I know this is an issue not likely to be solved quickly or easily. But I try anyway. I mentally hunt my poltergeists on the regular, mostly in the middle of the night when a hot flash or my dyspeptic dog wakes me for hours on end. I try to be harsher and more clinical than Cheryl, partly because I have the luxury of not offending myself, and partly because I know I won’t find answers if I shrug everything off to circumstance.
I know it wasn’t passive circumstance that led to the ghostings I performed. Like the new friend from Israel, who shared how American women confounded her with our subtle cues and indirectness— I proved her right when I stopped calling her. But I was sick of catering to her and her expectations of me in the effort to grow our friendship, and wasn’t at all sure it would be worth it. After I lugged my catnapping newborn to her apartment for the first viewing and she stepped past his car seat to hand me the thick photo album of her two-year-old’s birth, I knew she and I had very different desires for what our friendship should look like. Talking about the active problem seemed a waste of time.
I tend to assume those who disappeared on me had similar calculations that are mysterious to me. I toy constantly with reaching out to those who have disappeared to gain insight: Was I self-centered? Did I hurt you? Was my flip humor ill-timed and insensitive? Can I ask for forgiveness? I don’t want to make the same mistakes, and if I can recognize something I did, perhaps I might even find the grace to make it right.
It’s difficult to face these hauntings. As the visages sharpen I notice the ghostly figures aren’t just the people no longer in my life, but also younger versions of myself who made mistakes hurtful enough to push those people out of my life. It’s not pleasant work, this ghostbusting. Kinda makes one want to claw one’s face off in the bathroom mirror.
As much as I don’t get the film’s distinction between a poltergeist and a haunting, I recognize it ultimately didn’t matter how it was defined. They still had to go deep into corners and depths (the closet! the pool!) to root out the haunting. It was hard, scary, messy, blobby work, and it had to be done to live in peace. May we all be so brave to face our ghosts, and not arrogant enough to declare the house clean too soon.
