Am I too attached to my friends?
Am I supposed to be this devastated when I lose one?
I feel like I can get overly attached in friendships, to the point of getting jealous if a friend is hanging out with someone else or taking it personally if they're unable to hang out. Two close friendships have fallen away in the past two years, mainly due to these friends' work/school making them busier or taking them to a different state. It's embarrassing to admit for a platonic relationship, but it feels like genuine heartbreak. It was also humiliating with one of the friendships to realize I was more invested in the relationship than they were. Any advice, in addition to probably seeking therapy, for getting over this type of codependency in friendships?
By way of disclaimer, you should know that, for just a few minutes of my company, my friends would happily forgo any work commitment, cancel any vacation plans, or leave their kids in the care of any stranger that isn’t currently running their tongue along the blade of a machete. But although your dilemma could not be more alien to someone who’s ascended to social perfection, I will do my best.
I don’t detect codependence in you, quite honestly. I think you want parity, which is a just and reasonable thing to want. Unfortunately, as adults, we can only expect so much.
When we’re kids, we don’t have obligations that push and pull us all day long. Third-graders are basically third-graders, except the ones forced to run spelling bee drills until midnight or until they faint. Kids generally have the time for friends, so when they don’t make that time, you’d better believe it’s personal.1
Adults are different. Some are busier than others (busier does not mean better, mind you), and we may find ourselves left out of a friend’s carefully rationed calendar. We wonder if everything they’re spending their time on instead of us truly rises to the level of a higher priority. And we feel guilty for our suspicion and our neediness. But platonic friendships are, in fact, relationships involving real effort. There’s nothing humiliating about investing in someone, even if they eventually relocate or get absorbed into other obligations—even if you ultimately discover they simply don’t value you the way you want them to. It’s OK to grieve when those friendships ebb or end. The heartbreak is logical and authentic, not some sort of dysfunctional symptom. Part of it is simply life. We lose people, and it hurts.
It may help to periodically reassess your friendships, however.
Ask yourself: Who’s in touch with me reliably? Who seems legitimately underwater but will resurface at a more opportune moment? And, crucially, who would I never hear from again if I just stepped back and waited for their text? We can never know when a friend will suddenly announce that a job will be taking them to the other side of the world or that they’ll be cutting all ties due to the totally annoying strictures of their new UFO cult. But it also might be the case that you’re expending too much energy on friends who you know, deep down, will not reciprocate simply because they don’t want to, no matter how much their schedule frees up. They’re not our enemies. They’re simply people who won’t ever be what we want them to be. And maybe you can accept them for that, even hang out with them periodically because they’re fun or interesting or can get you into clubs despite your disqualifying facial features. Or maybe you’ll just let them go and focus your attention on the people who want it and want to give it back to you.
Of course, there’s always the racist parent wildcard.