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I cherish the friendships I’ve built throughout various stages of my life—friends from elementary school, college buddies, and those I’ve met as an adult through work and motherhood. Each of them holds a unique spot in my heart, and I’m thankful for social media, which allows me to stay connected with a simple “like” or an occasional text. As a mom of four, I have my hands full, and I just can’t manage high-maintenance friendships.
However, my closest friend is the most demanding of them all.
We shared a college dorm and have navigated many ups and downs together. I stood by her during her wedding in our junior year, supported her through a divorce, and celebrated her second marriage. I’ve been there for her career changes, relocations, and family drama. Our bond has lasted 25 years, but she often asks too much of me, and I’m beginning to feel that I can’t meet her expectations.
Despite her multiple marriages, she has chosen not to have children. Her life revolves around indulging herself, her dogs, and her partner. She enjoys a lavish lifestyle, complete with designer accessories and luxurious travel. While it’s an exciting life, it’s worlds apart from mine. I have children and a husband, and I drive a minivan. She just doesn’t grasp this difference.
I’m not constantly driving around for work, nor can I chat on the phone whenever she calls. More often than not, I see her name pop up and send the call to voicemail. My time is consumed with household chores, helping with homework, or shuttling kids to activities. I can’t prioritize her drama over my family obligations, which may sound harsh, but it’s the truth. While I sympathize with her complaints—like a bad manicure—sometimes it just doesn’t warrant a lengthy conversation.
She honestly cannot fathom why I don’t get my nails done bi-weekly or why I can’t drop everything to accompany her. She believes I’ve “lost myself” and let myself go. In reality, my priorities have shifted. I used to enjoy those pampering sessions, but now I’d rather spend that money on shoes for my kids. The priorities of a mother and someone without children just don’t align, and she fails to understand that.
“How can you not have tried the latest restaurants or seen the newest movies?” she asks. Well, because date nights aren’t a regular thing for me. I haven’t finished “Virgin River” because I can’t binge-watch; I’d need a weekend getaway just to do that. While she jets off to Mexico for a few days, I might find myself at Target solo. Those experiences are not even remotely comparable, but she doesn’t see it.
Recently, we took a family vacation, much anticipated by my family. The very first day at the beach, she called. When I informed her I was busy, she texted back just wanting to chat. Two days later, during mini-golf, she called three times. Finally, I called her back, thinking it must be urgent—only to find out she just missed me. It’s overwhelming how much she expects from me; it feels like I’m not allowed to enjoy my life without her.
To be fair, I do reach out to her, but only when I can genuinely focus on what she has to say. I want to be a good friend and stay updated on her life, but I don’t need a constant stream of updates. Honestly, I don’t even check in with my husband that frequently!
I understand that she has faced challenges and experiences loneliness, but I can’t relate to that feeling. When you’re responsible for five people, there’s little time to dwell on personal issues—unless it’s the middle of the night, and you find yourself lost in thought. She has plenty of time for reflection, which is tough for her.
I don’t feel pity for her; she has a fulfilling life and is happy with her choices. She opted for this lifestyle, while I chose motherhood and don’t regret it. In fact, I often wish I had embraced it sooner and had more kids. Our lives are distinctly different, and I don’t burden her with my daily challenges because I know she can’t relate. I wish she could extend the same understanding to me.
She remains my best friend, and I would drop everything for her in a true emergency—though a salad dressing mishap doesn’t count. She knows I’d be there for her, just as she would for me. She was my maid of honor, and she was the first at the hospital when my daughter was born, bringing coffee and a receiving blanket. I celebrated her milestone birthdays and supported her during tough times. She is truly special to me.
I enjoy our dinners and the rare pedicure together, but I wish it could suffice for her. Sometimes, a simple text to say “hey” is all I can manage, and I hope she understands that.
I want her in my life for the long haul and hope we can continue to share the ups and downs together. Ultimately, no one else I’d rather confide in, but I simply can’t spare 45 minutes on a Tuesday morning to chat.
For more insights on navigating relationships and family life, check out this blog post. Additionally, for those interested in home insemination, Make a Mom is an excellent resource, and Resolve offers great information on family-building options.
Summary
Maintaining a friendship with a high-maintenance friend can be challenging, especially when life priorities differ significantly. While I deeply care for her, I find it increasingly difficult to meet her demands due to my responsibilities as a mother of four. I wish for her to understand my constraints and appreciate the limited time I can offer, hoping we can both continue to share our lives without the pressure of constant communication.
Keyphrase: High-maintenance friendship
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