Why can't I reply to my friends' messages?
I'm craving community and social support... yet I can't reply to my friends on WhatsApp.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m lonely. Well, that’s a lie, but I don’t want to be ashamed. Lots of people across Substack and elsewhere are candidly speaking up: At 31, I don’t have the friendships I’m supposed to – and it feels like I’ve failed, says Ellen Scott. Farrah Storr, of Substack fame, spoke about her feelings on friendships after a recent study revealed that middle-aged people in England are the loneliest people in the whole of Europe.
I know how important friendship and social connection is for our wellbeing. Having people who you can turn to in time of need, who support you wholeheartedly (whilst also being able to call you out on your BS, if required) has benefits for your mental and emotional health. And right now, I desperately need those benefits.
Yet I can’t seem to reply to the many messages on my WhatsApp. I’ve left them as unread, because I know if I open them then I’ll have to respond. What is it about responding, though, that fills me with so much dread? I think I’m just afraid of saying the wrong thing. Of not really knowing how to be a good friend. Each message is like Schrödinger's Text: without opening it, I am both a Good friend and a Bad friend, which is better than replying badly and becoming a Terrible Friend.
How to make friends
I think I’ve always struggled to make friends (something I admitted in my autism assessment, but apparently, wasn’t believable because I did have some). I did have a group of friends in school, which didn’t quite feel effortless but was helped in part by being able to copy the people around me. I’d say I learned how to be a friend, rather than naturally became one.
Since then, I’ve had trouble making and keeping connections. I just don’t know how to do it. How often should I text people? Should I tell them the boring stories from my day, or focus on the deeper, more emotional topics that apparently women bond over?
Truthfully, I’ve always found it easier to maintain friendships with men, possibly helped by the fact I like to flirt with anyone. But most of these have petered out over the last few years – is it because I’m married now, or did it happen before that? – and I don’t know if I should try to reinstate them.
I admit I’m jealous of the people with steadfast friendship groups. When I venture onto social media, which isn’t often now, I see photos of people I used to know surrounded with smiling faces and I can’t help but feel sad and a little irritated. Why can’t I have that?
“Everywhere you look, the image of a happy woman is one who is surrounded by a group of friends: go-to people to laugh, cry, moan and do brunch with. So what does it say about you if you don’t have a big friendship group?”
Ellen Scott, Stylist
In her fantastic essay for Stylist, Ellen cites the work of anthropologist Robin Dunbar. He says that the ideal number of good friends is 15, with 5 as our closest connections or ‘loved ones’. I don’t know if I have any ‘good friends’ – what are the parameters for ‘good’? When does an acquaintance become a friend? Do ‘loved ones’ have to love me back?
I don’t know the answer to these questions. Most people I ask tell me there are no set rules, to just do what feels natural, to ‘go with the flow’. None of these people are autistic. Maybe that’s why it’s easier for them?
I loved this post from Nedra Glover Tawwab on Substack precisely because Nedra sets out her advice in easy-to-follow terms, not unlike rules. She advises that sometimes you have to let go of your ego, and to make the first move. So I guess that’s what I’m doing here by asking: does anyone want to be friends?
This post is from compare notes, a Substack about being present, focusing less on the bad and more on the good, and paying attention to the beauty around and inside us.