The concept of friendship is a highly subjective one. As I step into my mid-30s, I’ve been pondering what friendship truly means to me.
Recently, I came across a book on the topic of friendship, and as I discussed it with a friend, we found ourselves somewhat perplexed by how someone had the time and wherewithal to examine friendship to that point.
That might be telling of how good a friend I am…
Growing up I was the quiet, introverted type, usually forming bonds with just one or two very close friends. As a child and teen I was often one of three in various sets of friendship. I don’t know why it was just where I found myself multiple times.
The popular quote, “friends are the family we choose,” has often left me a bit puzzled. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve cherished every close friend I’ve had at various points in my life. But I don’t know if I ever went out and chose a friend.
In life, we often find ourselves in various environments, work, school, neighborhoods, and so on, and form connections with those we happen to be close to. It’s simply a matter of proximity. For me, these friendships sometimes evolve into something deeper, while others remain on the surface.
As I sit here at 35 years old, there are times when I feel like I have very few friends. I’m not out in those spaces anymore to find friends and bond with those around me.
To the friends who might be reading this, please know that I cherish you. Most of you live miles away and occupy a distinct part of my life, and I love you for it.
To those who are closer, and for various reasons, our friendships have either diminished or never fully developed, I must offer the clichéd excuse, “it’s not you, it’s me.”
Throughout my life, I’ve played different roles as a friend—sometimes the casual friend, the overly enthusiastic friend, the mean friend, the silly friend, the serious, the brutally honest friend, or even the people-pleasing friend.
Here I sit nearly nine years into motherhood, most of which have been consumed by the challenges of autism and the rollercoaster of mental health, my ability to maintain friendships has somehow gotten lost along the way.
I don’t blame my son or autism for the changes in me, but I do blame the way I initially handled his diagnosis and the ongoing struggles of dealing with it all.
I withdrew myself and my family from the world. To be honest, when you’re trying to fit into a world that doesn’t always understand your differences while navigating the complexities of autism, there often seems to be no other option.
I had to figure things out on my own, come to terms with the elusive nature of acceptance, which came and went like the tides.
Most of our friends were childless, and we couldn’t just visit their homes and unwind. I couldn’t bear the judgment of those who had no experience with parenting, especially the unique challenges of autism.
In the beginning, we were clueless because we didn’t know about autism. We didn’t realize what we had learned from the parenting books and our own upbringings wouldn’t apply.
My son couldn’t establish the bonds we had hoped for with the friends we loved before his arrival and still love from a distance. The fact that those bonds didn’t form broke my heart. I didn’t even give some of them the chance to try because I was afraid of judgment and shame.
That’s a regret I carry with me. I wish I could have said to them, “Hey, our son has autism,” and allowed them to decide for themselves how to involve themselves. Given them the opportunity to try. But we didn’t discover his condition until nearly five years had passed, and by then, it felt too late.
I’m sure many of our friends felt abandoned, as if we had left them behind like so many others who had married and had children before us. In reality, I looked up one day and realized that years had passed with minimal contact, as I remained lost in my own mental whirlwind from which I couldn’t break free.
Even today, I acknowledge that I’m not yet the friend I wish I could be.
I’ve found myself connecting with internet friends, many of whom are fellow mothers, especially those with special needs children. Or old friends who are now moms who I can relate to about motherhood and the old days. All of them are kept securely in my phone, in my pocket.
I hope they understand just how much they mean to me, even if I come and go. I hope they realize that sometimes, maintaining friendships takes a backseat because I can’t always actively work on them.
It’s a bit bittersweet when I see moms in playdate groups, surrounded by their friends and their children. Or when my birthday comes and goes, and I have no one to go out with, except for my amazing husband, of course. It can be a little lonely at times, but it’s where I am right now.
I hold so much appreciation for the friends who have stood by me, whether from afar or up close, and I hope they understand the hard things that have shaped our relationships.
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