At some point in our lives, we have probably all heard the phrase, “fair weather friends.” It refers to those people in your life who love to be around you when things are good and as soon as you show any sign that you might possibly need something from them they take the proverbial hike. They go MIA. They stop answering their phone. Things are going well for them, so you haven’t heard from them in…how long has it been? I wouldn’t have those kinds of friends, would I?
I have always been the person people knew they could go to in a crisis. If they called and were upset and hurting, I wouldn’t tell them they were intruding on the date night I’d finally managed to get a sitter for. I recall countless times being on the phone with this person, or that person for hours lending an ear, and sacrificing precious time with my husband and kids as a result. My husband would give me “the look.” It’s the look that I came to know as his, “You’re on the phone AGAIN,” look. There was another look he’d give me when he’d had enough of me being unavailable to the family due to some crisis someone else was having. Quality time for the two of us was scarce as it was, and I’d managed to spend most; if not all of it, on the phone consoling a friend or family member through yet another drama.
Digging deep and taking an honest look at my friendships wasn’t easy, and by doing so I noticed a disturbing fact. Many of those very same people I’d consistently sacrificed hours for weren’t there for me when the roles were reversed. Truthfully, it always bothered me that although I respected their time and took their feelings into consideration, I wasn’t given the same courtesy. When I needed emotional support or to talk about something that was upsetting me, the subject would get changed and I’d find myself engaged in another conversation about them. After a while, it got to the point where I’d call; no answer. I’d leave a message, they wouldn’t call back. At first it just seemed as if they were avoiding me; then I knew they were. If I got fed up enough to mention it, I was always brushed off. It made me feel like my expectations of my friends were unrealistic. “You’re so needy.” “You take everything way too personally.” “You’re too sensitive.” “I don’t understand why you let things bother you so much. You’re overreacting.” “You took it wrong.” “You’re so negative.” “If all you want to talk about is drama, I don’t have time for it. I’ve got enough going on in my life.” Those responses hurt. After all, aren’t your friends supposed to care about you? These were the same people I’d been there for over and over. Were there times when they called me to vent that I wanted to tell them their actions and choices caused the issues they were having? Of course there were! Did I actually do it? Of course not! Why? Because I cared enough about their feelings not to. I felt it wasn’t my place to judge or criticize them; only to be there for them. I started to see a pattern. As long as I didn’t assert myself, or call them out for their selfish behavior, everything was fine. As soon as I started to question their motives or actions, there was nothing but conflict. No matter what the situation, I was made wrong for allowing whatever it was to bother me. It became obvious to me that being right for them was more important than my feelings or anything else. Things got to the point that I decided it wasn’t worth saying anything at all. I’d just end up feeling like shit and nothing would get resolved anyway. It was easier to just avoid the entire issue altogether. So for months, that’s what I did.
….next…letting go part 2…
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