the cost of community is inconvenience

on losing comunity

A few weeks ago, I was talking to a friend—at the time, I thought our closeness was mutual. I asked her about her day and as expected, she responded with a voice note—a habit I adore, even if I sometimes run out of words to respond with. She went on about school, then casually mentioned taking a nap with her boyfriend. I paused, rewound the message to make sure I’d heard correctly. I hadn’t even known she liked anyone, let alone had a boyfriend. How many chapters had I missed? Apparently, a lot. I was aware of my inconsistency as a friend but it was different having it out in the open, confronting me.

Had I let a friendship I was certain was meant to be slip away? Something about the way we met felt predestined, like a chapter waiting to be read. A girl had reached out to me on Instagram and asked if I’d be interested in joining her Bible study. She’d seen my Christian content highlight, “A Dose of Christ,” and knew I was a believer before sending the invite. Another recipient of the invitation was J, a name on the other side of the internet—who I later realized was from my home country. The Bible study barely lasted a month, abruptly ending as our friendship took root and outlived the study itself. “The bible study is nowhere to be seen, we were meant to meet ”I remember saying as her laughter filled my ears, but deep down I believed it to be true. When we first started talking like most friendships, It was awkward at first—small talk and hesitations—until we warmed to each other and revealed the pieces of ourselves we rarely shared. I got familiar with how kind and considerate she is. The kind of person with an infectious calm, yet joyously contagious personality. A solid and dependable emotional intelligence.

Now I can not seem to overlook my anxiety to text her. She knows the intricacies of my last heartbreak yet our conversations are sometimes laced with the awkwardness of strangers. I wonder if I had lost her long before this realization. My other friendships seem to have met the same fate. After I moved for college to another continent I seemed to have migrated emotionally too.

The move was hard in all ways except physical. Surrounded by new people who neither looked nor acted the way I do. The little things I once took for granted as customary, I found myself longing for. The unspoken rules of community –I once thought were universal–a shared conversation with a stranger, a smile or a compliment you know is most welcome. I was not used to this lack of warm human interaction, a void with inexplicable longing. The people were polite but only after I struck conversation. Their way of life so different from mine. Every conversation felt like the first one even with people I had spoken to before.

I started the semester a bit late so I was already behind, the social adjusting only made it harder. I slowly drowned within myself, with school as a weight, pulling me deeper. I gave up initiating conversation as it was a vain fruitless cycle. “Depressive episode” is what the doctor called it. He had kind eyes–something about his eyes made me certain he would have hugged me if under a different setting–a far less professional one.

My friendships wavered and as I recovered they only grew more strained. Despite how it seems they didn’t abandon me–quite the opposite. They tried to reach out and I would too but I’d stumble and it became habitual. I feel I never fully recovered and I became an all round inconsistent friend, leaning towards solitude—like a tulip follows the sun—and avoiding social interactions. Although my actions were far from intentional they made irreparable damage to the bonds I held dear. Sometimes, intentions fade in importance when faced with the undeniable effects of our actions.

I struggle with the feeling of missing someone–or more-so the lack of it. I often succumb to solitude, my love for them unwavering and resolute as theirs diminishes in my absence. “They know I love them” They have to right? How can they? When my absence is persistent and my presence habitual.

“I do not owe anyone anything” you do. You can not crave community and in the same breath evade every opportunity of being a part of one.

There’s a growing trend on social media where selfishness is masked as self-care, and therapy talk is weaponized—taking boundary-setting and peace—keeping to unhealthy extremes. How admirable is your peace if it comes at the cost of others’? How healthy are those boundaries when they are built on the rubbles of others’? We think about ourselves too much and too little of others leaving the ones we claim to love feeling neglected. From the discourses on who should pay on a birthday dinner to turning down invites with little to no sound explanation,“for our sanity”.

We are losing the art of doing things for others, solely for their happiness, even at our own inconvenience.

I saw a titkok recently praising “low effort friendships”. They rarely talk, see each other or anything adjacent. Something I used to find comforting in my solitary days which I am actively trying to fight, mentally. I want sentimental stereotipical platonic relationships, ones filled with gossip and sleepovers and crying sessions and mutual venting, wholesome in everyway.

I’m aware that not every friendship should be the same, sharing deep dark secrets we wouldn't want to see the light of day and unending calls. Some friendships are meant to be shallow barely scratching the surface, only a few conversations past initial greetings. Acquaintanceships are just as valid as deep platonic relationships. However I don’t think you could forgo the latter. Sentimental friendships take time and consistent effort achievable only if you’re willing. I feel you can not foster a close relationship when you’re consistently inconsistent, and you believe you “don't owe anyone anything”.

We all seem to be in agreement on the emotional intelligence and effort required for a healthy romantic relationship. Be present, be kind, be selfless and for non-romantic relationships? Be there kinda-i guess? Why are we lowering the bar for platonic ones? I’m afraid sometimes the bar is nowhere to be found. The irony in not having the emotional bandwidth to respond to texts yet being chronically online. Something I am guilty of, the recurring ghosting at the expense of my friendships. I’m too ridden with shame to rekindle them, the uncertainty and lack of confidence that I wont mess up again consumes me. Until I'm sure and intentional I feel I should not trouble those waters. My friends deserve better friends—a tough pill to swallow, but one I’ll keep working through. I must be that better friend.

The price for community is inconvenience; you have to be willingly selfless. The less effort you put in your relationships–romantic or platonic–the more you forgo the chance at a healthier, closer bond. Just because it was written in the stars doesn’t mean your effort is unneeded.

The cost of inconsistency in friendships is a wedding invite you’ll never get to receive, a shoulder you’ll never get to comfort, a best-man position you’ll never get to fill and adventures left unexplored.

Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to share or read my other posts.

nice guys don't deserve women