Full disclosure: I can be a shitty friend. In person, I’m great with loved ones, giving them my undivided attention. Pop the cork, get comfortable, and let’s spill some tea. Isn’t that what friends do? But virtually, I know that I need to step my game up.
You see, a rapid-fire string of messages is enough to overwhelm me. I’m always the last to reply in a group text, will ignore pointed questions (“What are you doing Friday at 8?” or “How’s your niece?”) and chime in only with half-assed heart emojis. Call me a perfectionist or a detail-obsessed Virgo, but I do this because I worry that my responses (“Too busy to hang, sorry”) will disappoint. I wonder, If I can’t say something sweet, or meet when they’re free, will my friends hate me? As a result, I don’t show up for the same people I expect to be there for me.
But after nine months of therapy I realized that this behavior might come across as arrogant and dismissive, so I decided to change in an attempt to become a better, more compassionate friend. Over the summer, I noticed that my inner circle and I—generally overworked, emotional, cocktail-happy people who love to tell others we’re “so tired”—collectively felt …sad. After a few glasses of wine, our conversations often turned melancholic, followed by rapid exchanges of urgent self-care tips: Go to therapy. Try this podcast. Stock up on crystals. Wear an evil-eye bracelet.
