You’re Not Bothering Me, Friends

I’ve had a rough couple of months. I had to make an incredibly difficult decision regarding an unhealthy familial relationship, and I’m still trying to figure out what to do moving forward. My husband and I had issues with both of our vehicles and are currently searching for a decently priced used car in a ridiculous market. We took our first trip to the ER as parents. The month of May contained 6 family birthdays, an anniversary, Mother’s Day, and Memorial Day. 

The stress was wearing on me. I could see it in my face in the form of breakouts. I could feel it on the days that felt alarmingly like how I felt in the midst of postpartum depression.  I handled it by pulling back and keeping to myself. No sweets were safe in my house. I thought I was hiding it okay until a friend texted to check on me after a play date. She said that I usually radiate quiet confidence and joy (the nicest compliment I think I’ve ever gotten), but that day I looked as though someone had put my light out. Ouch. She was right though, and it felt good to be seen even if everything in me was screaming to stay hidden. 

One particularly rough afternoon when the kids had been extra needy and I was overwhelmed, I felt an unusual urge to talk to someone. I ran through a mental list in my head. 

She’s got two little ones too, she’s probably busy. 

What if her newborn is sleeping? 

She’s at work.

He’s at work. 

What if she’s taking a much needed nap?

I don’t want to ask her to come over to my house AGAIN, and I don’t feel like leaving. 

She’s got way too much on her plate already, I don’t want to dump my issues on her. 

I didn’t call anyone. 

The funny thing is I knew that if any of those people had called me in crisis, I would answer the phone and talk as long as they needed. I would pack up my kids and head to their house if that’s what they wanted. I would stop by a coffee shop on the way or bring them some of whatever I had baked recently. And if I couldn’t do it right then because of a sleeping or hungry babe, I would ignore the rest of my to-do list and go as soon as I could possibly swing it. But I didn’t give someone the opportunity to do the same for me.

I’ve got this hang up about “bothering” people. I don’t want to inconvenience someone or be the reason their day got thrown off course. I don’t want to interrupt their plans or ask them to go out of their way for me. I call it independence to make myself feel better, but I don’t think that’s what it is if I’m honest. I hesitate to be seen or heard because it opens up the possibility that someone may see me or hear me and say “no, thanks.” It’s happened before and it HURT. I’ve had someone I cared for immensely at the time literally say to me, “I feel like I know you now, so I don’t think we need to hang out as much anymore.” Talk about full scale rejection. 

My husband does not have this problem. Since we met, I’ve always admired his network. He seemed to know so many people. Everywhere we went, we ran into his friends or acquaintances and stopped to chat. When we got engaged, I was blown away at the number of people who jumped in without hesitation to help us (read: him) pull off a beautiful wedding. When I see something funny that I know someone would enjoy or share a complimentary observation about someone with my husband, he always says, “You should text them that.” It still shocks me that I have to be encouraged to do something so simple, but I’m realizing that that’s how he maintains his connections. He puts himself out there. He sends funny texts and silly pictures of the kids, he volunteers his time and talents, he asks for help when he needs it, he invites people to lunch. Over and over again. 

I long for deeper connections with my friends. What hit me the other day is that I’m the roadblock. I can be the friend that goes out of her way for her friends, but I also have to be the friend who reaches out when I’m feeling vulnerable. I’m happy to be the listening ear, but I also have to be willing to talk when something is weighing heavy on my heart. I want to share your burdens, but I also have to allow you to help me carry mine. No one wants to be in a one-sided friendship with someone who’s got it all together all the time. No one wants to be in a friendship where they’re constantly receiving and not getting a chance to give back. 

I’m writing this here instead of my journal because I have a feeling that I’m not the only one. For me, parenting has only added to my natural inclination to avoid bothering people. Mothering littles can be a very lonely business. I’m keeping up with nap schedules and feeding schedules and monitoring screen time and cooking and cleaning and chauffeuring to activities while trying not to completely neglect myself, and I know my friends who understand are busy doing all these things too. But I’m going to make a concerted effort to ignore that voice in my head that tells me that no one wants to talk to me. That no one cares what’s going on or how I’m feeling. That no one wants to see that funny picture. I’m going to challenge you to do the same. 

So fair warning to my friends, I’m calling you next time. And I want you to call me too. You’re not bothering me.