“I need some time for myself,” her message read. We had been friends since our freshman year in college, a bond that lasted nearly a decade, but the aftermath of the recent election shattered that connection. For over five months, I received no word from her, and it stung deeply to realize she thought it acceptable to put me aside.
This led me to ponder whether I should invest in new friendships, particularly when those I considered close did not seem to value me. She missed significant events in my life, such as my wedding and baby shower, had yet to meet my child, and never made time for me—even when I visited her city. I had been blind to the imbalance in our friendship until it was too late.
In the past year, I dedicated significant time—sacrificing sleep, personal preferences, and even some financial resources—to cultivate new relationships with women who were either new acquaintances or just hovering on the periphery of my social circle. I longed for the deep connections often depicted in films like Bridesmaids or Beaches.
I straightened my hair for dinners when I would have preferred to read or tackle the laundry pile. I bought jeans that fit well to avoid showing up in my husband’s sweatpants. I took the plunge to invite colleagues to lunch, braving the awkwardness of mingling with those I hardly knew. I even drove over 60 miles to meet a friend who seldom inquired about my life. I kept arranging playdates with my son’s friend, despite the constant manipulation by his mother, believing in second chances.
In hindsight, I regret these efforts. Those moments spent waiting for my check could have been dedicated to activities I genuinely enjoyed. Each forced social interaction could have been replaced by time with true friends who understood my preference for meaningful conversations over small talk.
I realized that while some aspects of friendship—like being there for each other—are essential, they must be reciprocal. When one person continually invests time and emotion while the other remains detached, the friendship is bound to falter. As a mother, I no longer feel compelled to chase after individuals who offer conditional support, often only reaching out when their plans fall through.
Reflecting on friendships like that of my former college roommate made me reconsider my role in other relationships. I sought to reconnect with high school friends who had always supported me through thick and thin, those who didn’t care about my flaws and still welcomed me with open arms whenever I visited. These friendships have endured, unlike many connections with those nearby who often ignore my messages.
While meeting new people can be rewarding, it often feels akin to dating while already married. With limited time available due to parenting and household responsibilities, I questioned why I would spend precious moments with those likely to let me down instead of fostering bonds with cherished friends.
I’ve taken charge of my social life, distancing myself from those who never initiate contact and separating from individuals who drain my energy. Instead, I’ve focused on nurturing friendships that are mutually supportive, relationships that have remained balanced throughout life’s ups and downs.
As a mother, it becomes crucial to be discerning about who you spend time with. Time is a rare commodity, and surrounding yourself with those who uplift you is essential. While the idea of connecting with other mothers might seem appealing, it’s vital not to overlook the value of existing friendships that truly enrich your life.
In summary, cherish the friendships that have weathered the storms of life, as these bonds provide invaluable support that even your partner may not always be able to offer.
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