Transitioning into adulthood means a lot of growing up. And that maturity extends the most of your friendships, as both you and your friend change.
No doubt everyone has experienced how close and important friends can be, and yet how far they can drift or break apart. Sometimes due to the most insubstantial of barriers.
I’m trying to have a healthier relationship with these friends; find ways to continue to be friends but also not pour energy into things that aren’t healthy or sustainable. I’m going to try to share this one instance in a respectful manner and hope that it translates to other people. What lessons I’ve learned, what habits I’ve formed, solutions that work and problems I still see.
A close friend in high school. Through college, there was never much communication, but we’d see each other semi-regularly when we both came home for breaks.
Post college, I took a trip to see this friend in his new city; an opportunity for me to travel but also to reconnect and put in a little work into a relationship that I enjoyed and had somewhat neglected for four years.
The easy part was to be friends again. I found myself falling into a familiar rhythm, a combination of old high school familiarity in combination with a genuine interest in the growth and experiences of each other. That was cool; it was nice to drink and party but equally fun to smoke bowls and talk about random shit to good music. Made me think not everything in high school was awful.
He ended up moving to my city later, near neighbors compared to the thousands of miles that separated us before. But separation of distance gave way to separation of time. See, friendship was still easy. Hanging out was just as fun. And a simple joy in liking the person you’re talking too. A sobering rarity in adulthood.
But when I wanted to hangout more often, his time was absorbed by other things. What resulted was me scheduling lots of time and effort meet up, and him generally demurring or flaking. Clearly unsustainable.
I want to preface the rest by first defending my friend. I believe that he also enjoyed spending time together. He was a wonderful host while I stayed for a week in his city/home, continued to meet me in New York, and responded to texts and Snapchats. But I also think he had different availability of time. And while I could structure and commit to an event; he simply didn’t have the luxury. It ended up with an uneven combination. It wasn’t out some sense of hostility or malignance, only a difference in value.
But I still ended up with a dilemma. Our friendship wasn’t equal.
And I wasn’t furious (perhaps a little disappointed), but I did need to change.
At a different point in my life, I would have been more upset. I would have retaliated or demanded reciprocation, either through emotional response, a heartfelt apology, or a change of behavior; some amount of effort.
The reality is, it’s because I felt that I need reaffirmation of my own value, being that what I was giving to someone else was reciprocated less than what I thought I was owed. Being hurt mean hurting back.
Communication was key. I spent a little time considering what would make me happy that would fit into his schedule. A relationship is two ways and if he couldn’t provide me with time, I couldn’t provide him with outweighed effort. Then I communicated. I sent him a text essentially saying I liked hanging out, but if time is really tight for him, I thought it would be easier for both of us if he took initiative when he could fit me in. We amicable agreed that the current situation wasn’t ideal and took stock of the better solution.
And though we don’t hangout nearly as much anymore, we both a have a healthier view of the relationship. I can now put the amount of effort commensurate with his. That re-balancing made it sustainable. It reduced the sinkhole that it had become.
I’m not zero mad. I don’t think I should be; that person is still important to me, and at the end of the day, he’s still my friend. That slight negative emotional response is both healthy and important to have; it means I still value him. But it’s minor. It’s categorized. It’s forgotten. And that minimization truly gives me a sense of freedom. I can allow the issues to be what they are, and devote enough energy and time to them that is sustainable for me. It also helpful to have other hobbies and people to keep me very busy. My time is still a valuable commodity and so what I no longer need to reserve for my friend, I can make good use of, for many other projects and interests.
I’ve taken the lessons of good communication and equal value more seriously. It’s strengthened my other relationships too. Being polite, respectful, clear and thoughtful about the intent and effort I can place in the people in my life gives clarity and openness to both of us. It’s also allowed me to be more secure in myself, knowing that I can depend on me, rather than basing my self-esteem on someone else’s perception of me.
I also understand the importance of committing. I find myself making sure I don’t commit to things I can’t be positive I’ll make, or at least communicating that I’m only partially committed. And if I say I’m going to something, I make my best effort to show up. That has been a real turning point in how I treat my friends; knowing the experience of being on the opposite end. It’s never nice to have someone flake. [I’m still late a lot. Swiss people would hate me. I’m trying to get better but yeah still flawed.]
I wonder if I’m protecting myself. I admit I’m still a novice at romantic relationships, even though I think they build on some of the fundamentals of other relationships, working and friend. And perhaps this level of calculation/protectionism doesn’t serve that well with romantic interests. I honestly don’t know. I think communicating continues to be a better answer. Hopefully that can lead me to better ways to address all ships, romantic or not. I actually don’t have an answer. Maybe someone can help, maybe books will give me insight, and hopefully I’ll find a better way. Regardless, it’s going to take more work and self-analysis.