Fearful in Friendship
I have written before about friendships that have ended and how that leaves me wondering whether I can own any part of our relationship. Are the memories of fun adventures, bonding, and togetherness still filed under “happy times?” Do I transfer them to “unhappy memories?” Or do I try to ignore them altogether? I think in my case it largely depends on the person with whom they are associated and the particular memory. You can find that story here.
What I did not write about is my insecurity in all my friendships. These past experiences, plus others, have affirmed my fear that eventually, people leave.
Is this a fear all people face?
While I feel fiercely loyal to my friends, knowing I would abandon those relationships for almost no reason, I find that I do not trust my friends to stand by me. At the same time, I do not know if this is a trust problem or a self confidence problem.
I had a housemate in college who I absolutely adored. I was living in a school-assigned interest house with five other sophomores and our resident assistant. While we all applied to live in the house, we did not choose who we were living with. As you might imagine, we did not all “click.” But I have some very sweet memories from that house. I developed my first crush – like actually fell for someone for the first time (this might be shocking, but previously I had assumed I was straight and was trying to have crushes on guys).
I also got to live with one of the most unique, funny, wonderful people I have ever known. Probably a big part of why I appreciated him so much is that he would say the nicest things to me. He was so complimentary of my personality, in ways that no one else has ever been. I was always flabbergasted. I thought “he just does not know me very well. If he knew me, he would not think or say these things.” I never felt well-liked in school. I had friends, but overall I believed I was not appreciated, fun, or desired. So while a huge part of me thought this housemate was full of it or clearly missing something, I also wanted to believe him. While I cherished my college housemate and reveled in his praise, I do not want to rely on validation from others to feel confident.
I understand that children tend to be flighty in friendship. Most children make friends based on convenience. They are in the same class, neighbors, attend the same extra-curricular activities, or their parents are friends. At some point around adolescence, friendships become more critical and less about having playmates. Friendships carry more weight, because they are the primary outlet for confidence and source of social conditioning. This did not come easily to me. I struggled to trust my peers with my insecurities and dreams, and mostly kept those thoughts private. Though I did not lack an interest in talking about vulnerable teenage topics, I greatly feared appearing naïve.
I thought if I spoke up, people would see me as that dorky, childish girl. Somehow, I connected those thoughts with a fear that I was tiresome and could easily be cast aside. I assume all teens have days when their friends avoid them for whatever reason, but I added those instances as data points to support my theory: friendship is temporary, and I am expendable.
I still lack confidence in my social life. To this day I feel like I could say something that will make my friends realize how much of a disaster I am. I feel at the brink of losing the people I love and cherish the most. As I sit here, over a decade beyond high school, I wonder how I am still struggling with these same fears. On the other hand, I understand that this story I am telling myself is part of the foundation on which I have built my life. Of course it will not just evaporate with the graduation from puberty to adulthood.
I have had enough experiences that felt like abandonment; it felt like I messed up and they saw through, and then they left. I keep these stories easily accessible in my memory and have since been on a quest to determine how to be secure in my relationships. Trying not to make the same mistakes, I police my speech, actions, and reactions.
For the longest time my main goal has been to feel safe in my friendships.
But what if that is the wrong goal?
What if safety is not guaranteed?
This concept is very new to me. I do not have an answer or even a complete understanding of what it would mean to release the need for safety.
My relationships with friends and family have been the foundation of my life. But I am starting to think that I need to be the foundation of my own life. I may not always be able to count on others, but if I can rely on myself, maybe I can start to lower some of my barriers and stop policing myself.
My problem is perhaps not a lack of self-confidence and trust, but that I am seeking a guarantee that the universe cannot provide. Not to mention, something that is not fair to ask of the people in my life.
While I know that looking for safety puts me in a defensive position in my friendships, I also know that being authentic, vulnerable, and truthful feels powerful. That feeling is worthwhile, even when stepping out feels dangerous. Safety in friendship should not be my goal. As long as I am moving toward a truer self, I will be okay.
The title of this piece is in honor of my favorite movie: Safety Not Guaranteed. In a conversation with my therapist a few weeks ago about my desire to feel safe in friendship, she asked “what if safety is not a…guarantee?” That sparked hours of thought and the culmination of this piece I was trying to complete.
