Sip, Don’t Drown: A Lesson in Friendship, Facebook, and Grace

“In a world pulling us to the extremes, grace lives in the quiet choice to stay connected without drowning.” - Mary Coughlin

I meant to click “unfollow.”
Instead, I clicked “unfriend.”

And just like that, a quiet digital act sparked a very real emotional ripple. The person I unfriended—a dear friend I’ve known and loved—reached out. He noticed. And instead of lashing out or shutting down, he offered me something I didn’t expect: grace.

Let me back up.

This friend and I have vastly different political beliefs. Over the years, I’ve found myself feeling off-center—sometimes even distressed—by what he shares online. I’ve tried to stay connected, to make room, to honor the friendship despite our ideological chasm. But recently, the noise of the world got too loud, and I made a quick decision to hit that “unfriend” button, thinking I was simply muting the dissonance for my own nervous system.

But it wasn’t just a technical action. It landed emotionally.

When he reached out, I was mortified. I apologized—truly. Not for my beliefs, but for the unintended hurt caused by my actions. And what followed was a simple but profoundly wise text from him:

“My political stance is this: the Kool-Aid comes in many flavors—red, blue, or whatever. Take some sips, but don’t drown in it.”

That line stopped me in my tracks.

Sip, don’t drown.
Stay aware, but stay afloat.
Engage, but don’t lose yourself.

He extended an olive branch: a friend request resent, and a screenshot showing me how to unfollow him if I needed to—gracious, understanding, kind. He gave me space without shutting the door. He gave me permission to protect my peace without ending our connection.

And here’s the truth I’m sitting with now:

It’s not about agreeing.
It’s about staying in relationship even when we don’t.
It’s about seeing the human behind the headline, the story behind the stance.
It’s about staying curious, staying kind, and remembering that we are all shaped by forces—visible and invisible—that influence how we show up in the world.

I’m still navigating how to hold space for this friend’s worldview without abandoning my own. I’m still grieving that his spouse remains hurt and upset by what happened. I hope, in time, she’ll understand my intention was never to wound, only to manage my own emotional bandwidth. And I’ll hold that hope gently, without pushing.

But this moment reminded me of something essential:

We are all swimming in waters that can easily pull us under.
Polarization. Misinformation. Fear.
But we don’t have to drown.
We can sip. Pause. Reflect.
And when we’re lucky, a friend shows us how 🥹.

With tenderness and hope for the spaces in between,
Mary