When a Relationship Has Served Its Purpose

Today I found myself thinking about how certain people come into our lives to fulfill a particular task or serve a specific purpose—and how, once that purpose has been fulfilled, circumstances unfold in such a way that they leave our lives. Every relationship involves some kind of exchange—emotional, material, intellectual, or otherwise. We give something to each other, and that is what creates a connection and keeps us interested in one another. When that exchange disappears or becomes completely one-sided, the relationship begins to lose its purpose. This isn’t about using people. It’s about how, at exactly the right moment, our thoughts and desires attract the people who can help us make what we want a reality.

The first time I noticed this pattern in my own life was when my ex kicked me out and accused me of using him, claiming that I had planned everything from the very beginning. I hadn’t planned anything. He came into my life so that I would have at least one person there when I arrived in the U.S., someone who could act as my guarantor when I crossed the border and give me at least some sense of support in the beginning.

I could never have used him—I’m simply not that kind of person. I developed feelings for him, which was why I believed I could accept his help without guilt. I had something to give him in return: my love and care. How naive I was. I didn’t know then that, besides draining my energy and exhausting me to the point of collapse, this person would also want my money.

But this article isn’t about him. The point is that once he had nothing left to give me and did nothing but drag me down, a huge fight happened and he kicked me out. I wouldn’t have left on my own at that point because I had nowhere to go—but I’ve already written about that.

The next example is my so-called former friend. For a long time, I had wanted to visit many different places, but somehow it never worked out. There’s something strange about me: I find it incredibly difficult to go anywhere by myself, but if I’ve made plans with someone, it’s completely different. It becomes so much easier.

And so, I went everywhere with him: the roller-skating rink, horseback riding, the shooting range, and many other places. I also started going to the ocean more often. Since I was living in DTLA at the time, I was sometimes simply too lazy to drive there alone.

Later, when there was nothing new left for us to do, we spent most of our time making small talk and watching some random movie. I stopped getting anything out of our communication because our views on life were very different. I think much more broadly than he does. Eventually, circumstances unfolded in such a way that we stopped speaking. The actual reason was entirely different, though: he simply didn’t want to be just friends.

Most likely, I also came into these people’s lives to give them something or teach them something. Once the lesson had been taught and my task was complete, I left their lives.

Why do I call it a lesson? Because for at least one of them—my friend—I was, as he put it, “karma.” It wasn’t the first time someone had called me that, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. He said I was his punishment for all the women he had hurt. All because I rejected him, and it got to him. I think it wounded his ego more than his feelings, but that is only my perspective.

As for my ex, I don’t fully understand what my role was in his life. This is how I see it, with some deliberate exaggeration: I was an angel in his life, a ray of light that made his world brighter and better. But day after day, he dragged me through the mud, walked all over me, chained me up, gutted me from the inside, and finally threw me out onto the street.

Still, I am certain that fate punished him for the way he treated me. I cursed him so much when he kicked me out. I wished him dead. But within twenty-four hours, I realized that what had happened was a gift—a gift from fate—and I thanked him for it.

My forgiveness didn’t erase his karma, though. That is why I am completely at peace. I know he was punished. The only unfortunate part is that he probably never understood what he was being punished for. People rarely connect one thing to another because the consequences usually come from an entirely different direction.

Yes, people come and go, but they never appear in our lives for no reason—and they leave for a reason too. Of course, you might say that this is obvious. But I’m not talking about the surface-level reasons. I mean the much deeper ones—the reasons we cannot immediately see and have to dig beneath the surface to uncover.