It's Not You...It's Me

A couple of weeks ago, I heard through my son, Sam, that our neighbors and friends were moving to Utah. When this friend confirmed the news through a text that same night, I drove home in a fog of tears. I was desolate. Beyond sad. Beyond lonely.

The hole this family would leave behind, both in the community and at church, is crater-sized in its proportions. While the thought of the gash their children leaving makes to our youth program and primary, as well as her and her husband's leadership roles as seminary teacher and bishopric member being sadly vacated is depressing, I mostly mourned my own personal loss. A fun friend gone. A source of advice and comfort in this little town too expensive and isolated to keep anyone for long...taken. I didn't want to live here anymore. I know that sounds dramatic but it just seemed that if this person, who I thought was going to be here forever, was moving then no current or future friendship was safe.  For years, it was us leaving our friends as medical school, residency and fellowship ended but, now, for the rest of my life, friends will move and leave me.

What made my grief seem ridiculously overdramatic and undeserving was that it had been probably close to a year since I had done anything social with this friend.  We had chatted at a few ward functions and a sent a few texts here and there that kept us from saying we hadn't heard from each other but I had made very little effort to be a friend to my friend.  Now, with plans for her to move in less than a month, we quickly scheduled a breakfast in which to meet and chat and it was delightful.  Easy.  Well...not so easy.  Daniel did tip over my water onto my lap and I had that uncomfortable upper thigh and crotch soak to show off as I left the restaurant but that kind of thing isn't what keeps me home.  It's me...not making any effort.  It's me....figuring people have better things to do.  It's me...not knowing or realizing the stress others are having and helping.  It's not hard for me to list all the reasons why I'm so unsocial these days.  I'm married to a private and socially unmotivated person.  I live on 25 acres in the freaking countryside.  I have a baby who prevents me from being a lady who lunches and older kids with busy evenings that make my daylight hours feel too precious to spend frivolously with other moms of young kids at things like MOPS.  All those realities make the excuses easier to give but the sad reality is this: I am not a good friend.

I think I make an excellent acquaintance.  I tend to be friendly and funny and genuinely interested in others. I'm such a good acquaintance that some are duped or lured into thinking I'd make a good friend.  This attention and effort on their part flatters and excites me for awhile but then something happens.  I'm not sure what.  Sometimes it's my own insecurity that I seem too desperate or needy so I back off.  Sometimes, I overshare, get embarrassed and back off.  Sometimes, someone else seems too desperate or needy and that scares me so I...back off.  See a pattern here?  Sometimes, distance and time just shift the friendship back to acquaintance mode and it seems weird to get all loud and eager again.  Whatever the reason I know that I am the common denominator in all of my current and former lackluster friendships.

A few days ago, this friend told me they are no longer moving.  Relief and joy replaced the gloom and I feel determined to show this friend that I really am her friend!  Even with this resolve and our own jokes that it shouldn't take the threat of a move to get us to hang out, I find myself managing my motivation.  My head says, "O.K.  She's staying but this is a really busy time of year and you just had breakfast two weeks ago. Don't annoy her and plan something else right away."  I'm obnoxious!

To anyone I have disappointed as a friend - I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry if I seemed disinterested.  I'm sorry if I let you down or left you alone when you needed support.  I'm sorry I seem to lack the skills to stay friends - real friends.  I promise you...it's not you.  It's me.  I'd like to be better.