Friendship

I've had cause over the last few days and weeks to ponder the meaning and responsibilities of friendship.

I seem to fluctuate between being a great friend and a terrible friend; or maybe I am such a great friend that it becomes too much for me and causes me to be a terrible friend in return.

You see, I'm a great listener. Most of the time I prefer to listen (which is maybe why I feel I need a blog to actually speak and be heard), and people love that about me. And I like that people feel safe enough that they can tell me everything.

But sometimes it can be too much.

I don't think I've mentioned this on my blog yet, but I'm bipolar. I'm feeling pretty good right now, but when I'm manic or, more so, when I am depressed, my own troubles are so overwhelming that it can be difficult to deal with everybody else's troubles, as well. Every once in a while, I have a friend who takes all my energy and time, and eventually all the taking just sucks me dry until I can't take it any more.

I have a friend who lives in another country. Or had, anyway. He originally contacted me to help him improve his English. Not knowing what all this would entail, I said ok.

First we would just talk once or twice a week on my days off. There is a very large time difference between us, so it can be hard to coordinate times. At first, I was shy, as I am with all new people, so he mostly spoke and asked me questions.

Then we started talking longer, and I had to put more effort into really listening and giving him feedback on his grammar. But this wasn't enough, and soon I had to take notes during our conversations and send him a voice mail later with all his corrections. This started to feel like a job. Then we really went into testing mode, and suddenly I had to start researching speech topics to prepare him for an exam.

All the while, we did become friends. He trusted me with his deepest, darkest secrets that he couldn't trust with anybody else. And he let me speak about myself also, and he wanted to learn all about me, but it was so difficult to explain some parts of myself, not just due to the fact I would use words he didn't understand, but sometimes cultural differences got in the way, as well. Like, try explaining Bipolar Disorder to somebody who comes from a country that doesn't really acknowledge the existence of mental illness. Life is tough, and you deal with it, period. So there were many things I had trouble discussing, which led to this friendship being rather one-sided. Mostly, he would talk, and I would listen.

Anyway, now that I am back into my writing and I am spending most of my free time managing this blog and its associated Facebook page and also working on my other writing, it has begun to feel like a chore to talk to my "friend" on my days off.

And he started contacting me more and more, sending me messages when I was at work or in bed.

Then last week he called me an angel.

Crap.

I'm not an angel. Lately, every time we talk, I'm staring at the clock wondering how long I need to sit here taking notes on my friend's life and grammar and when I can get back to my writing.

He deserves a better friend than me.

So last night I sent him an email saying that everything had become too much; I would be willing to talk with him briefly once or twice a week, but no more hour to an hour and a half long conversations on Skype while taking notes and sending voice mails and researching speech topics. Come to think of it, I guess I am having a hard time with the helping with English part more than the friendship part.

In any case, he wrote back apologized for taking so much of my time and begged me to still be his friend.

I feel like such a terrible person.

And this is not the first time I have "broken up" with a friend because they took far more out of my life than they gave in return, so now I am having deja vu and feeling even worse about myself.

I know that I am doing what I need to do for myself, which sounds selfish, but it takes SO little to send me into a depressive episode that is likely to last for several months. I HATE being depressed, and I am working very hard at managing my bipolar in a way that I can avoid depressive and manic swings as much as possible.

So sometimes this means firing my friends.

Friends are supposed to be there for each other through all their ups and down, but sometimes friendships get lopsided and there is far too much give and not enough take. My friends should be able to help me through my depressive episodes, not cause them.

Anyway, all of this is probably why I don't have very many friends. I'm a natural listener and I'm very shy, so I set myself up for failure by sucking up all of my friends' bad energy and not feeling comfortable enough to burden them with mine, and in the end I wind up resenting both myself and them.

All comments are welcome on this topic, I'd love to start a conversation about what friendship means to you.