You already know I’m a recovering workaholic.

So it should surprise no one that during my full dopamine years I neglected family and friends.

Friends.

We met a couple about fifteen years ago at daycare pickup. We immediately clicked. She was funny and nice. I was funny and nice too. She must have caught me on a day when everything at work was completed and everyone was satisfied.

Basically I was in a good mood. So we clicked.

For years we’d meet occasionally. Dinners at each other’s homes. Maybe three times a year.

Then I became more work and no play.

By the time weekends came I didn’t want to do anything or see anyone. I was exhausted.

When your friend texts asking to get together and you don’t respond — well. They stop asking.

Three years passed.

Then one Saturday I spotted them at Costco.

I immediately crouched behind the bananas.

There was absolutely no way I was walking over to say hi after three years of ignoring their friendship.

My husband looked at me like I had lost my mind.

“What are you doing?”

I whispered: “Look who’s there.”

Damn it. He walked straight over to say hi.

I wheeled the cart toward them in full apprehension. They were happy to see us. I had a miserable face on and said almost nothing. My strategy — if I don’t speak maybe they’ll leave.

I felt the numbness coming back. Floating above the situation like it had nothing to do with me.

My husband was all smiles and conversation. I looked like the one who had ended the friendship.

Well. As much as I wanted to be offended — I was responsible.

They hadn’t changed at all. Still as warm and sweet as ever.

Miserable me managed a smile.

I was embarrassed. Embarrassed of myself. There was too much to say in a Costco aisle between the bananas and the bulk olive oil.

They probably thought I was high on something.

My very well behaved husband made dinner plans on my behalf.

So I showed up. Not before finding every possible excuse not to. But I showed up.

I apologized like a person who had committed murder.

They didn’t say a word.

They just hugged me.

I think we’re back on track.

Workaholism has a cost. We’ve talked about what it did to me. This is what it did to the people around me.

Hiding behind bananas in Costco is not a dignified look for a former executive.