Am I a Bad Friend?
Reflecting on relationships and the one that matters most
“Sorry… can’t make it.”
It was the third time I said no to an evening out. The guilt of being unavailable was starting to gnaw at me.
It wasn’t that I was working late or had other plans. I just didn’t feel like it. The thought of getting dressed and leaving the house had me spent before I even got up off the couch. If I’m being honest, it wasn’t just the idea of going out that exhausted me… it was the thought of going out with her.
It wasn’t always like this.
Like many others, the pandemic did a number on me. Once an outgoing city dweller, the forced lockdowns hampered my social life. I stayed home. I shelved travel plans. I read more books. But then something else happened.
The solitude, the slower pace of life, the simplicity of my day reminded me of something I had buried a long time ago: I am a natural introvert.
Even with a tendency to surround myself with people, the best way for me to recharge has always been through time spent alone. I’ve taken social detoxes, gone on solo trips, booked theatre tickets and dinner reservations for one.
Yet, while I’m comfortable being alone, I’ve always prioritized being there for friends and family. Initiating conversations and planning get-togethers. Being a connector and a matchmaker. Motivator and cheerleader. Even when my own wellbeing needed attention.
It took a global pandemic to make me realize how much I needed to change my priorities.
During those quiet days, I spent time with the one who needed me most: myself. I asked how she was feeling, probed when I knew she was holding back. I waited with patience when the feelings swelled up and poured out of her. Let her cry on my shoulders when her heart felt too heavy to speak.
She had good days, too. Days she was happy doing nothing, content with sitting still. She did yoga, meditated, and spent more time outdoors. Slowly, she stopped missing the chaos of the city and the friends that used to keep her busy. The same friends she’d spend time coaching and lifting up. The hole she once filled for others was now the hole she was filling for herself.
Investing in my relationship with me helped me feel whole again. I let my deepest self speak and be heard. I listened. I gave myself permission to be curious. Pursued those curiosities in a way I had never allowed myself before. Embracing the person I was becoming, I neutralized shame, pushed past fears, endured growing pains. I felt peace with and within myself.
So when the city opened up again and life went back to normal, I knew I needed to change how I reintegrated into the world.
To support my new relationship (the one with myself), I connected with others that also prioritize growth and introspection. Those that dig deep, ask tough questions and are willing to step out of their comfort zones.
I aligned with others, like me, who set goals and place boundaries in their relationships to achieve those goals. Together, we’ll close the gap between where we are and where we want to be.
Once the guilt subsided after declining the invitation, I realized something. Just as I was growing and changing, my relationship with my friend was evolving, too.
It’s funny how our criteria for friendships evolve over time. When we were young, we needed so little to bond us to our besties. A favourite colour. A shared snack. A mutual crush.
Yet, as adults, our interactions are complicated. We look for people to connect with and see life the way we do. But we also need people that see things differently, friends who challenge us, open our minds and help us grow. We need those that lift us up when we’re at our lowest… and others that bring us back to earth when we’ve flown too close to the sun.
Our friends can’t be all the things, all the time. And neither can we.
We’ll take on different roles throughout the course of our relationships. Some days we’ll give more than we receive. Our needs will change with the seasons of our lives. And that’s okay.
If, at any point there was a hint of magic, a moment of deep human connection… then it would have been worth it. No matter how long the friendship lasts.
Maybe my friend and I will find our way back. Or maybe we’ll grow apart. Either way, I’m grateful for what was, what is and what will be… and embrace the new-found relationship I have with myself — bad friend or not.
