I’m not great at a lot of things, and honestly, it doesn’t bother me much. I struggle to peel a hardboiled egg without ruining it, I’m hopeless at sports, and algebra? Let’s just say my high school math teacher would likely faint if she saw how little I remember. When it comes to fashion, I need Pinterest or a store mannequin to guide me. Sure, I lack various skills, but there’s one area that does weigh on my conscience—friendship.
I admit I’m a bit of a slacker when it comes to maintaining friendships. I often fail to respond to texts, snaps, or Facebook messages promptly. I miss calls and sometimes even forget to return them, and there have been stretches of a month or more without a real conversation. If my friends don’t make an effort to pull me out of my shell, they might not see much of me for weeks. I might send a funny meme or comment on their Instagram just to let them know I’m still around, but my engagement is minimal. I tend to keep a quiet watch over their lives through my Facebook feed, and as long as I know they’re doing okay without me, I don’t prioritize reaching out.
Let me clarify: my affection for my friends is genuine and deep. I think about them often—sometimes multiple times a day. If there’s an emergency, I’ll drop everything to support them, no matter the hour. However, when it comes to those everyday check-ins—the simple act of saying “hey”—I struggle to convey my thoughts. An idea will pop into my head about a friend, and I’ll think, “I really should tell her this,” but then I don’t follow through. Life can be overwhelming, and my plate feels so full that even a quick phone call seems daunting. After all, a conversation can easily take at least half an hour, and that’s time I feel I don’t have to spare.
I was a more attentive friend in my younger days, filled with energy and less burdened by responsibilities. I had time for chatting, manicures, and girls’ nights. Now, I can barely muster the energy to fold laundry (which explains why it’s currently wrinkling in the basket).
I’ve lost some friends due to my tendency to drop off the radar, and I can’t fault them for moving on. Those were the more superficial connections, perhaps acquaintances who didn’t quite understand. My true friends, however, know not to take my absences personally. They understand that I sometimes bite off more than I can handle, which happens far too often. During those busy times, the maintenance of routine friendships takes a backseat, and my communication reduces to quick snaps and casual Facebook interactions while I’m on the toilet.
What’s truly wonderful about my friends is their understanding. They won’t judge me for my flakiness, even when anxiety and overwhelm push me into retreat mode. This sense of safety in losing touch speaks volumes about our bond: I know they’ll still be here when I resurface. When I’m ready to reconnect, it will feel like no time has passed between us.
If you’re navigating similar challenges, you might find helpful insights in articles like this one about managing the stress of a crying baby. And for those considering starting a family, the CDC provides useful information on infertility that you can access here.
In summary, while I may struggle to keep in touch with my friends, their support and understanding remain unwavering. When the time is right, I know we’ll reconnect without missing a beat.