Ever since I was a little girl, I remember that friendships were a priority for me; I would constantly ask my mom to let me have friends over for playdates and sleepovers.
As a teenager, I had a Nokia brick phone and a driver’s license, and I could always be found planning to see friends or inviting them over to mine.
The craving for friendship has continued ever since, with my incessant desire for it fuelled by an innate need to feel accepted. I moved a number of times when I was a kid, and I fought against the outsider mentality by developing relationships that would help me become part of social circles.
I moved from the US to Wales
As an adult, I moved from the US to Wales, and once again, had to find a way to fit in — through friendship.
I invited myself to people’s houses for coffee and asked them to go for walks with me. I texted and rang to check in on friends I had made through church, work, my kids’ school, and my husband’s previous social circles.
These friends were incredibly important to me, and I had to hold on to them. I felt the only way to do this was to maintain frequent contact, more often than not initiated by me.
In recent years, I found myself thinking: What would happen if I didn’t text, call, or plan to meet up with friends? Would they get in touch with me?
It’s led to little monthlong experiments — going quiet to see who I’d hear from, if anyone.
The results have been both disappointing and frustrating, yet reaffirming. There were some friends who didn’t make any contact (and I felt rejected as a result), others who got in touch with me.
All of my childhood fears about exclusion and rejection were acutely felt once again.
I’m a loyal friend
I had lots to think through. Did I mind being the one who initiated the friendship — the one who kept it going? Was my concept of friendship too intense for other people? Were there some friendships I was willing to put in the work, even if I felt it wasn’t always reciprocated? Was I a needy friend?
This soul-searching led me to understand a few things about myself and the nature of friendship.
I’m a loyal friend who values deep, meaningful relationships that require time and effort. I make space for close friends, even though I work full-time, am married, and have three children, and I crave friendships with people who share the same values. A twice-a-year check-in just doesn’t do it for me. I want sisterhood.
However, this is not necessarily a value that everyone else has, and that’s OK. I suppose some people don’t need such intense friendships. Or perhaps they already have them with family or other friends. I can’t get frustrated with or feel rejected by friends who don’t have the same idea of friendship as I do.
To avoid frustration and feelings of rejection, over the last year, I’ve decided to mentally note which friends want the depth of friendship I offer and those who are happy with a surface-level relationship.
I stopped chasing friends
I leaned into those deep friendships (three of them) — people who valued relationships as much as I did. They feel like my village, those who depend on me, and those who I can depend on. They’re the ones who check in with me, just as I check in on them. It’s not me who initiates everything — they’re texting and calling too. They’re fiercely loyal.
But I stopped chasing friends who didn’t seem to place the same value on friendship as I do. I didn’t cut them out (and would happily still see them for a coffee), but I didn’t prioritize contact as I had before. I didn’t feel any resentment, but rather an understanding that we had different ideas of what friendship entailed. And that’s totally OK — I can accept this without feeling rejected or unwanted. When we do see each other, at school gates, on the streets, or for an infrequent meet-up, I enjoy their company, expecting no more than they are able to give.
And then, there were a couple of friends whom I knew I would have to initiate contact with if I wanted to maintain our friendship — I’d have to accept that for it to continue. I appreciated their friendships too much to only see or hear from them occasionally.
Over the past year, with these changes in place, I feel completely content in my friendships, as I have never before. I know where I stand with friends, and as a result, don’t feel rejected — no longer that child with an insatiable desire to be accepted by everyone. I know I’m wanted and loved, not by everyone, but by a few, and that’s enough now.
