Friendship

A couple of weeks ago, an old friend whom I‘ll call Susie, actually the sister of a friend with whom I keep in touch a few times a year, called me out of the blue just to chat. Susie has been having a bit of a rough time lately, feeling anxious and discouraged, and she hoped it would help to talk to me.

A couple of weeks before she called, I had been talking to my therapist about loneliness. The impending holidays, combined with some personal struggles, have brought on a sense of alienation and isolation. Naturally, my therapist encouraged me to reach out to others. She advised me to call my closest friends at the times when I feel sad and withdrawn.

While her counsel makes sense rationally, it is difficult for me to reach out to others. I do not want to bother or burden my friends with my struggles. I want to appear as though I have it all together. I do not mind talking about past struggles, but when it comes to current trials, I try to deal with them on my own.

God must have a sense of irony, because just when I thought, “I’ll deal with these feelings by myself,” Susie called asking for a friend to help her talk through her struggles. And did I think she was bothering me, as I would have felt if I had been the call-ee? Not in the slightest. I felt honored that she would open up to me; I felt great respect that she could ask for a friend when in need. I admire her for seeking to grow by reaching out to others. As it turns out, we have much in common, and I felt cared for by her, as we could relate on many issues.

I discussed with her my reluctance to reach out to others, and as it turns out, Susie has the same fears. She contacted me because she was at a point of desperation, but she iterated how difficult it is to call friends when she is struggling. She recounted friends who seem to drain her emotional energy, and she does not want to become one of those people. Of course, if she is worried about being a selfish friend in the first place, she has nothing to worry about. This phenomenon is similar to the admonition that you only have to fret about being insane if you think you are perfectly sane.

When God provides people in our lives, why do we keep to ourselves? Why do we, as women, feel guilty for sharing our burdens with others? How can we reach out to each other more? How can I better care for myself and my friends? Why do we feel so alone at times, while we often share the same struggles?

I am thankful for the women in my life, and for seemingly arbitrary kinship, though it was in God’s plan all along.