Nothing proves who your real friends are quite like misfortune.
When misfortune hits—and what form it takes rarely matters—a real sense of loneliness can envelope me. The perception of that loneliness is not an illusion; I am genuinely alone because, when misfortune befalls me, a number of so-called friends are suddenly nowhere to be found. And that loneliness is palpable because it is precisely in those moments that I need friends the most. Why do so many friends vanish?
Because I was never their friend. That's the dirty little truth. I was nothing more than a notch on their social network belt, whose value was measured by the contribution my acquaintance made to their status quo, which diminishes by the degree to which I am perceived as a liability. When misfortune befalls me, I become 'high maintenance'. I am worthy of their time so long as I don't require anything of them, even more so if I can be of use to them.
But if I am not of use to them or if I have some kind of need, I'm treated like a pariah and soon find myself experiencing a poverty of social contact. So it is in those moments of misfortune that I have to retreat to that small, select group of people who are genuine friends. Misfortunes make demands on my attention and energies, which cannot be wasted on frivolities like self-absorbed ingrates. And that group is small indeed because precious few are those who I consider worthy of my true self. When misfortune hits and causes my social contacts to evaporate, creating that perception of real loneliness, it is then that my true friends stand out in stark contrast. And I look at those who disappeared and I say, 'This has been added against your account.'
I think you are being a little black and white about this. Certainly there are those who desert you because its uncomfortable and they cannot be bothered with all of that, but there are those who genuinely struggle in the face of misfortune. Its not easy knowing what to do or so when a friend goes through hardship. Attempted words of comfort can sound trite or uncaring. I know this because my best friend's mother died and he was grief stricken and I really struggled to know how to comfort him. I don't think I'm a bad friend, just incompetent emotionally.
ReplyDeleteThat is a very insightful point, one that my turmoil prevented from occurring to me. Thank you for making it. That is something I should dwell on.
ReplyDeleteHowever, I want to point out that I had a number of specific 'friends' in mind when I wrote this who are accurately represented by this characterization. I composed this rant while thinking about those specific individuals. When it comes to that "small, select group of people who are genuine friends" that I retreat to in times when misfortune hits, some of them are probably just like you—uncertain how to express their caring—but I discover in their treatment of me what their words struggle to articulate.
You are right, true friendship shines through, despite incompetence.
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