Thoughts About Friendship

Mara here:

As we're heading into the end of the year, I've been spending some time thinking about what has happened during 2017. It's been a bit of a turbulent year. There's been a lot of change.

Change overall is good. But I shy away from it. It makes me uncomfortable. Even if the changes are good, I get anxious. And when the changes are not necessarily positive, I really struggle.

One of the changes from this year was a distancing of some friendships that I'd had for many years.

I've always felt as if I struggled with friendship. Looking back on it, I think I have always struggled with being comfortable with myself and that translated to me being uncomfortable around other people. However, I didn't realize this for many years, so I often felt separated from people.

It's not to say I didn't have friends. I've had a lot of great friends over the years, but the picture of "best" friend I had created in my head never seemed to match what I felt in reality. And that always made me question my relationships.

As a child, I remember distinctly the feeling of wanting a "best friend." But much like so many other ideas I had about life, the concept of "best friend" didn't materialize. I had the Hallmark movie image of friendship in my head. I thought friendship was very cut and dry. You had friends and you would do anything for those friends and your friends were your friends no matter what.
But there were always these nagging doubts in my head that made friendship complicated. I always worried my friends liked other people more than me. I often got irritated with my friends. Sometimes I didn't want to be around my friends. And there were times when mentally I simply had nothing to give to anyone else.

And it always made me feel as if I was a failure as a friend.
I spent decades feeling like I was a bad friend (i.e. bad person). I spent decades worrying there was something "wrong" with me that I couldn't have friends like everyone else.

As a child, I wanted to have as many friends as I could. I wanted to be popular and be liked by everyone. I thought that's what everyone wanted. When I got older, I realized that trying to get a lot of people to like me was exhausting. For a few years, I  went the opposite way and thought maybe I didn't want any friends—and I didn't care if people liked me.


But I do care.

Finally, in the last few years, I've realized that I'm somewhere in the middle.

I do want people to like me. But I don't need a lot of friends. I do like doing things with friends. But I don't like doing everything.

And I've realized I like, and need, to spend a lot of time by myself. I have had to learn to respect my own limits.

Hardest of all, I have had to learn that there are people I can't be friends with.

I am a person who struggles with anxiety and depression. There are times when it takes all my energy to take care of myself and my immediate family. And that means there are times when my friends have to take a backseat.

It also means that I have a low tolerance for drama. I can't handle constant crisis because it overwhelms me. Of course I want to help out my friends when I can, but I can't constantly be nursing friends through repeated self-inflicted catastrophes.

For a long time, I felt bad about walking away from friendships. I always felt that if I really cared about someone, I would stick with them no matter what happened.

But, I've come to realize that it's okay to have limits on who you decide to invest your energy and time into. I've decided it doesn't make me a bad person for not being willing to subject myself to relationships that don't feel good. It doesn't mean that I don't like those people. It doesn't mean I don't think about them or care for them. I do. It simply means that I can't continue to be around them.

And I know that I'm not for everyone. There are many people who might need a companion who is up for anything, anytime.

I'm not that person.

And I've learned to be okay with not being that person. The amazing thing is that there are a lot of people who understand how I feel. I've been amazed to discover there are a lot of people who feel the same way I do. And there are a surprising number of people who are willing to accept me for how I am, and they allow me space when I need it. 

Honestly, as for the friends I've had for more than a decade, I just lucked out to find such great people. But for newer acquaintances, I have spent time trying to figure out how to avoid the pitfalls of getting close to people who aren't a good friend match.

Here are the most important things I've discovered:

—Try to not present yourself as someone you're not. It's still my instinct to be a person who is "likeable." But the reality is that I'm kind of moody, and I don't like a lot of things other people like. So I try to be upfront and honest about myself so people don't make assumptions about me that would be disappointing in the future.

The best advice I ever read was from book, The Baby Whisperer. The author Tracy Hogg said, "Start as you mean to go on," meaning—don't bring a baby home and treat it like a prince or princess for 10 years and then suddenly expect him or her to live like a regular person all of a sudden at the age of 11. No. Start as you mean to go on. So I try present myself as truthfully as I can from the start so that people are getting to know the real me. 

I'm super flawed, but I realize that about myself. Sometimes I have to kind of hide out in my house because things feel overwhelming. Sometimes I won't want to go out to lunch and I almost never want to go to a party. I try to be up front about that because it's too easy for people to feel like I'm avoiding them. I am. But I'm usually avoiding everyone. It's not a personal thing about that individual person.

—Don't get upset when people treat you the way you've treated them. People I'm friends with have to put up with a lot of hot and cold from me. So I try to be as understanding with them as I need them to be with me. There are times I can't do normal friend things because I simply don't have the energy. So it seems obvious that when people respond to me the same way, I need to be understanding and not get my feelings hurt.

It is hard to not feel a little hurt when people turn down your invitations for things. And it's hard to not go into the rabbit hole of wondering why, and whether or not there are ulterior motives for their answers. But at the end of the day, the people I end up forming lasting relationships with are people I trust. They're the people who, when doubts creep into my mind, I can remind myself that I don't need to be suspicious.

—Believe people when they show you who they are. I think this is a quote from someone famous, but I can't remember who it is. But it is very true. When people have behavior patterns that make you uncomfortable, you need to assume that it's not a coincidence. Yes, sometimes crappy things happen to people, and when we hit bumps in the road, we need our friends to support us. But when the bumps are happening over and over—and getting bigger and bigger—it usually means it's a reflection of the choices those people are making.

The most important thing to remember is that everyone is different. Everyone needs different things from friendship. Everyone wants different things from friendship. What works for me doesn't work for everyone. What works for other people doesn't have to make sense to me.

Know what you want from friendship and work toward finding similar people—people who make you feel good—to share your life with.

Here are some questions I asked my mom about friendship.

Once you became sick, I know your friendships changed dramatically. What have you found to be the most important aspect of the friendships that you've been able to maintain through your illness?

The topic of friendships can be such a difficult one for the chronically ill that I've written half a dozen articles on it for Psychology Today. Just about a month ago I wrote one called "How to Respond to Unkind Remarks When You're Chronically Ill." There's a lot about friendship in that piece. I've included the link in case people want to read it.

I also write about it in my books. As I said, it can be a challenge. You asked what I've found to be the most important aspect of my friendships. Three things really matter to me. The first is that my friends be flexible because I never know how I'm going to feel on any given day. I may make plans to get together with someone, but then have to cancel, sometimes at the last minute. The friends I hold dear are flexible about that because (and this takes me to my second "criteria") they accept that I'm sick; they aren't put off by it.

For a friendship to flourish, I have to feel accepted as I am. This is true for everyone, but I'm thinking of it in the context of chronic illness. Some people are put off by others who have health problems. I've come to not take this personally. I know they wish the best for me. They're just uncomfortable around people who are struggling with their health. It could be that it triggers their own fears about it. There are lots of possible reasons. Whatever the reason, I've learned to wish those people the best and then pass over them as potential friends. I don't have the energy to try and convince others to accept me as I am! 

The third aspect that's important to me in a friendship is that the person be a good listener. And this goes both ways—I need to be a good listener too. If one of us is struggling, all we need is a sympathetic ear. There's nothing quite so wonderful as feeling that you've been heard and understood.

For people who are sick, do you have advice for how to form new friendships?

If you're housebound—or, like me, mostly housebound—the internet is a good place to find friends. You can make friends with those who share your particular health problems or with those who are simply chronically ill like yourself. You can also make friends with people who share your interests—interests that have nothing to do with your health. It may take some time, so be patient. Some of the sources of friendships can be Facebook groups that have formed around various interests, forums that are connected to a particular interest (e.g. embroidery, knitting, painting).

If you're able to go out, then you can form new friendships the way everyone does—through churches or temples, through community activities. You just need to be aware that some people may not be willing or capable of giving you the support you need, which almost always involves the need for them to be flexible when you make plans together. Such is the unpredictability of chronic pain and illness: sometimes plans have to be cancelled. 

In attempting to form new friendships, it helps to go into it knowing that some prospective friendships will work out and some won't. This is true for everyone, too. Realizing this is a form of what Buddhists call "equanimity" and it protects you from the pain and exhaustion of going to extremes—on the one hand, being overly excited about a new person you met and the prospects for friendship it brings and, on the other hand, falling into despair when a potential friendship doesn't work out.

Because I'm not able to go out very often, the number of my friendships has dwindled dramatically and sometimes I do feel sad and even lonely about it. But most of the time, I'm content with the friendships I have because I know these are people I can count on...and I hope they feel they can count on me—for emotional support at least.