One of my longest-standing friends lives in Seattle, about three hours from where I am. He’s one of those rare individuals whose presence I can’t pinpoint to a specific moment, yet I can’t recall any significant events from my youth without him being there. Despite living just a few hours apart, we haven’t seen each other in years—possibly even a decade.
Sure, we exchange the occasional text and have a phone call once a year. I keep an eye on his social media from time to time, but our connection has faded. And I need to be clear: the fault lies entirely with me.
Both of us are in our late 30s, but while I’m married with three kids, he’s single and childless. I find it nearly impossible to be a good friend, or even an adequate one. I can go weeks without replying to messages, cancel plans at the last minute, and sometimes return calls a month after they’ve been left on my voicemail.
This isn’t just about him; it’s a broader issue. I’m in one of the busiest phases of my life, and perhaps you can relate. Right now, I’m juggling two jobs, a situation I’ve been in for years. Before that, I was a college student managing the challenges of parenthood, which certainly wasn’t easy. My days start before sunrise and often stretch late into the night, filled with soccer practices, gymnastics, homework, chores, meal prep, and laundry.
Weekends are a whirlwind too, with muddy soccer cleats and a lively little gymnast to manage. I sprint from one soccer field to another while my wife rushes to grocery stores and Costco, only to find out our son has a last-minute project due in two days instead of two weeks. We divide the responsibilities, and by the end of it, we collapse into bed, utterly spent, only to stare at the ceiling and plan for the next day.
Don’t get me wrong; there are moments to catch my breath. However, I often use those fleeting moments to connect with my wife, spend quality time with my kids, or squeeze in some exercise.
It’s ironic—when I was a kid, I dreamed of being an adult so I could do what I wanted. Now, at 37, as I write this, I can’t remember the last time I did something just for me. The best I can recall is watching half a movie on Netflix a couple of months ago.
I know this might sound like another parent lamenting about the challenges of raising children, but it’s more than that. Yes, I’m tired, busy, and stressed, but I’ve never felt more fulfilled and driven in my life. I adore my kids, and my wife is nothing short of amazing. Right now, though, my focus is entirely on them and my family, leaving little room for friendship.
That’s not to say I don’t have friends. I do, and I genuinely want to keep in touch. I celebrate their successes and empathize with their struggles, but I recognize that my schedule is overwhelming. There are times I feel close to burnout, and all of this contributes to my shortcomings as a friend.
It took me years to confront this, but I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve established my priorities and what I can realistically manage. At this moment, maintaining friendships isn’t high on that list.
I realize this may sound harsh, but it’s the only way I see fit to navigate my life. I can’t alter my responsibilities toward my children or the commitment I have to my family. After all, I’ve invested enough time to know that if I don’t give my all to my loved ones, nothing will work. And I’ve never wanted anything more than to make my family thrive, so I’m all in.
So, to my friends who are parents, if you’re feeling neglected, please understand it’s not about you. It’s simply our circumstances. We’re overwhelmed, focused on our children, and once life settles down, we may find ourselves more available for those calls. Right now, our priorities lie elsewhere.
In summary, while I acknowledge my shortcomings as a friend, my focus remains on my family during this hectic stage of life. I hope that friends can understand and recognize the situation rather than taking it personally.
Keyphrase: Poor Friend Apology
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