I have a secret to share. These days, nearly all my connections with women are conducted via my phone. Whether through video messages on WhatsApp or just simple texts, I keep in touch with my beloved friends without ever sharing hugs, spending time together, or engaging in silly adventures face-to-face.
Earlier this year, I moved across the country temporarily to get support from my family while raising my young kids. Yet, even when I lived in the same city as my closest friends, we rarely met up. Those without kids were swamped with their careers, relationships, and travel plans, while those who were moms were juggling the unpredictable chaos of motherhood. I found myself caught between both worlds, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of a creative life outside of my children since their arrival. Like many stay-at-home moms, I often felt like I was falling short in both realms, struggling to carve out fulfilling work while orbiting around my partner’s full-time job.
While motherhood has been isolating and challenging at times, it has also given me a strange sense of freedom from the need to be vulnerable in person with my female friends. Although there have been moments when I craved a heart-to-heart chat or some laughter over wine, letting go of the pressure to consistently engage with my friends has surprisingly felt liberating. The truth is, when you’re not actively involved in someone’s life, you can sidestep the discomfort or potential conflict that comes with showing up for them. Given my struggles with emotional intimacy with women throughout my adulthood, this newfound freedom has been oddly comforting—something I desperately needed.
If you were to consult my therapist, she would likely point to a clear psychological reason for my hesitance to fully open up to my female friends. And she would be absolutely correct, which can be infuriating (but I’m only half-joking). It’s taken me a long time to accept some truths about myself, primarily because I’m still reconciling how different my childhood was compared to others. This process has made the journey to becoming a genuine friend feel like running a marathon in NYC without any training whatsoever.
Since childhood, my dearest friend has been my mother. Now, before you cue up some catchy tunes and start dancing, let me clarify. While it’s wonderful to feel unconditionally loved and supported by your mom, it’s another thing entirely to feel as though you can never let her down, that you must share every thought and feeling, and that you might be indistinguishable from her. My upbringing was marked by a deep emotional connection to a mother who loved me immensely but also faced her own mental health challenges. This dynamic has significantly impacted my ability to form female friendships.
As a child, I might have attributed our closeness to my adoration for her, but looking back, I can see it was also due to my unfamiliarity with any other way of being. Friends would often envy the bond we shared, unaware of the complexities involved. Externally, I appeared to be the model student with perfect grades, an ideal physique, and a desire to excel. Internally, however, I was a people-pleasing perfectionist constantly striving to fulfill my mother’s expectations. Whenever I sensed her distress, I would rush to her aid, often sacrificing my own social life in the process. I relied on her as my moral compass, seeking her approval for everything instead of trusting my own instincts.
Whenever I stumbled and faced consequences, I would excuse my mother’s behavior, forgiving her for her shortcomings. The painful reality was that, for every traumatic episode, there were countless joyful moments that kept me attached to her. She was the best mom on good days, assisting with homework, enrolling me in activities, and encouraging my dreams. However, the affectionate memories made the tumultuous moments all the more difficult to navigate. The deeply personal revelations I shared often came back to haunt me during arguments, leaving me terrified to be vulnerable again. Ultimately, I became afraid to open up to anyone, fearing failure or rejection.
As a child, I internalized the message that I must be the problem; it couldn’t possibly be my mom. This belief led me to mold myself into the kind of person I thought would earn her love. As a result, friendships in middle and high school were kept at arm’s length. I lived in constant fear that revealing my true self would jeopardize my chances of being loved.
These feelings of inadequacy have colored my relationships with women throughout my life. I often avoided closeness or became overly attached too quickly, only to distance myself shortly after out of discomfort. I’ve failed to communicate with friends more times than I can count and have taken things to heart that were never meant to be deal-breakers. I’ve even hesitated to form friendships, convinced I would ultimately disappoint others, or worried I would become too enmeshed with anyone, reminiscent of my childhood with my mother.
The emotional pain stemming from my struggles with friendship has kept me from confronting some hard truths about myself. In an effort to protect the wounded child within, I conformed to a lifestyle that didn’t truly reflect my desires. However, as I entered motherhood, those protective walls began to crumble. Suddenly, I had to confront the pain I had long suppressed.
With the support of my amazing partner, family, and trusted therapists, I’m beginning to acknowledge the trauma that has held me captive for far too long. I’m learning to embrace my true self, thanks to the unwavering support of a fantastic group of women. For the first time in my adult life, I find myself frustrated by the distance between me and the women I cherish. I’ve discovered the profound rewards of showing up for them as they have shown up for me.
I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to the incredible women in my life—like Mia, Sarah, and Joy—who have unconditionally supported me. I’m aware that I’m a late bloomer in the friendship department, but I’m learning quickly. I trust that together, we can navigate this beautiful, messy journey of life. I might not have chosen my past, but I am absolutely choosing my present, which now includes a wonderful circle of friends.
In summary, the journey of understanding and nurturing female friendships can be complex, especially when hindered by past experiences. However, with love, support, and a willingness to embrace vulnerability, it is possible to create meaningful connections.