If I’ve heard it said once, I’ve heard it a hundred times: friendship is a process of give and take.
In the best friendships, each person has a lot to offer the other, and we do this via a healthy, balanced exchange of love and respect. Not in a pedantic, score-keeping way, but in a way that fills each person up, and doesn’t tip the scales too far in any one direction. We lean on each other when we need it; we provide laughter, a listening ear, a place for our friends to be themselves.
I am grateful to have a lot of these friendships (and this kind of marriage) in my life. (One example: the three girls I lived with during my year in Oxford, who are pictured above – we had a surprise reunion last fall.)
I’m a classic overachiever: organized, driven, capable. I am not Superwoman, but I know my strengths, and like most people, I prefer to operate out of them most of the time. I am so much more comfortable being the giver in a friendship: the one who says, “I’m fine” and means it, the one who can provide what another person needs: a listening ear, a home-cooked meal, a bit of encouragement on a tough day.
I’ve been dealing with a difficult situation lately, and here is one of the most frustrating things about it: I have had to ask for help, over and over again. I need advice and support and cheering up; I need lunch dates and distraction and a little extra attention. I am having to learn to be the one who takes, who receives, who admits her own neediness and lack. And – no surprise here – I don’t like it.
There’s nothing wrong with being capable, but there’s something a little more insidious at work here: I like seeing myself as a person who has it all together. The other side of that coin, it turns out, is a deep fear: the fear of being a person who takes and takes and has nothing to give. Of being a person who pushes her friends away because she’s just so needy. Of turning into a person who demands more than she can give in return.
I don’t have any easy answers for this, at the moment. The tough situation in my life isn’t going away, at least not yet, and I’m still struggling to figure out how to ask my friends to help me through it. I’d much rather work things out on my own and keep presenting a brave face to those I love, but that isn’t really an option (at least not a healthy one).
So I’m learning, day by day, to keep asking for help when I need it, and reminding myself that friendship is about loving each other when we’re human. And to fight down the fear that says I’m not enough – because I know, deep down, that my friends and family are kind and generous and willing for me to lean on them. Even if I have trouble with the leaning, sometimes.
Do you struggle with being the “taker” – the vulnerable one – in your relationships? (Please tell me I’m not alone here.)
You are not alone – I, too, struggle with being the vulnerable one in my relationships. Be thankful that you have friends that will allow and encourage you to be vulnerable. That is a gift from heaven.
I appreciate your words. I tell others that sometimes you have to realize that the joy is in the giving and you just have to accept when others give. I haven’t had to be on that end of it yet, but you never know what life is going to deal up for you. I like to think that those that give are paying it forward. You are a blessing to your friends, I’m sure. I have two friends battling breast cancer right now and I’m learning so much from them. We learn how to be better friends to others at these times. I may need to copy what you’ve said here and share it with them, if you don’t mind.
I don’t mind at all, Marie. Please share away!
Love and Salt: A Spiritual Friendship Shared in Letters is a beautiful (and, in places, heartrending) portrait of a friendship like the kind you describe here. Listening in as the authors articulated their needs and broken places to each other with raw candor helped me start imagining ways I could do that more in my own relationships. It was a deeply moving read.
I’ve been wanting to read that book. It sounds so moving and lovely.
I totally relate to this! I’m proud of you for recognizing it in yourself. Part of what helps me reach out is being aware of who my safe friends are: the ones who don’t feel compelled to fill the silence, who don’t offer platitudes, who will listen instead of advise.
Oh, yes. That’s definitely important.
Yes! I loved this post and often struggle with feeling like being the taker is “selfish.” As a mom, I’ve found it becomes even harder a struggle to adapt to being not totally perfect, not totally together, and having to sometimes ask for help. I have to constantly remind myself that it’s OK, and that I’m doing my best, and sometimes, it is OK to lean on other people to see me through.
Oh, you’re definitely not alone! I felt like I was “looking” in the mirror while reading this post!
Dear Katieleigh ~ I completely understand what you’re saying. I’m very resistant to “taking” and have more than once had a (minor but with potential) medical test or procedure without telling anyone til all was said and done. If you don’t follow Hands Free Mama, read the below. As so often happens, I saw this right after reading your post…a timely demonstration of serendipity or what I like to call harmonic convergence. Prayers ~
Anne McCarthy Kennedy
“Rejoice always, Pray without ceasing, Give Thanks in all circumstances” 1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18
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Oh my sweet Katie! As you well know, you have described me perfectly and it appears that I unwittingly taught you that self-sufficiency is the only way to go. It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, as you have begun to find out. We all need someone now and then. I know you know this, but we are all here for you ANY TIME. Love you lots!! Mom