The lovely Seshat posted this today about the meaning of true friendship and what it means to be a good friend. This got me thinking about my own rather spotty history with friends which has led me to where I am now. Although I consider myself to be a sweet, open, and honest person, I am almost literally without friends. Weird, huh? After reading Seshat’s post and thinking back over my childhood, I believe I know why I don’t really have friends now. It’s sort of complicated, so forgive me if I don’t make sense. First, a little history about me and my “best friend” M.
M and I met in preschool when we were both about 4 years old. We were both very shy, so our parents and teachers thought it would be a good idea to introduce us. We quickly became very close and we spent the greater part of our elementary school years in and out of each other’s houses. When we hit middle school, however, something happened. M is a very upbeat and flirty kind of person, and it’s very easy for her to make friends. I am much more reserved and, well, suspicious of other people to make friends that easily. So I guess what happened was natural: she created a group of friends around her, and I was left out. This new dynamic in our friendship last throughout middle school and high school, although we were still as emotionally close as sisters…we just never saw each other.
Since we both graduated high school and went our separate ways, we have seen each other only rarely and have talked by phone a few times. Eventually, I started to notice a pattern in our conversations. Basically, she only calls me when she’s going through a personal crisis. It could be that she’s used to coming to me with her problems, but there’s no give and take involved. She’s not overly concerned with things going on in my life. When my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer two years ago, I never heard from her, even though I emailed her about it. She just isn’t interested. But when she found inappropriate emails on her boyfriend’s computers from another woman, she called me in tears. She forgave him that day, even though I begged her to finally get rid of him (he’s a jerk). I haven’t heard from her since.
I have come to the realization that my friendship with her, as long as it has been, has never been a true friendship. She knows that I have suffered form depression at various times in my life, but her only recognition of it came when she called me asking my advice on how to deal with her boyfriend who had just been diagnosed. Why did I allow myself to settle for anything less than a true friendship? The fact that I don’t trust people easily makes it hard to make and keep friends, but the reason I don’t trust people easily comes from various peers betraying my trust and my friendship over the years. The best friends I have right now are my boyfriend, my family, and those few, genuine people I’ve met online. I’ve tried to keep up connections with people I’ve met over the years and have bonded with, but they’re not real friendships.
Part of me can’t be bothered to develop a real bond with new people. My depression often causes apathy and it seems like too much trouble to bother. But the biggest part of me is afraid of getting close to people. So much of my adult life has felt transient and temporary and it seems silly to develop close friendships with people because I never live in the same place longer than a year or two. Also, I tend to assume that people who meet me automatically look down on me, for whatever reason. I always believe that people are judging me or making fun of me behind my back, and that makes it difficult to trust people.
These self-realizations don’t help me much, but it’s a good start in my journey to get to know myself.
