Ep. 354: How to Stop Over-Giving When Friendships Feel One-Sided

When I first got into recovery, I thought my relationship problems were mostly about romantic relationships. I could clearly see the codependence there. What I didn’t realize at the time was that the same patterns were all over my friendships and colleague relationships too.

This month my theme is social boundaries, and to me social boundaries are about choosing how to be connected to other people in a way that actually honors your capacity, your energy, your interest level, and your truth instead of operating from obligation, guilt, fear, or old conditioning.

For most of my life, I never considered any of those things. I just did what I thought I was supposed to do. I thought being a good friend meant always reaching out, always maintaining the connection, always being available, always remembering birthdays, always checking in, always carrying the emotional labor of the relationship.

And honestly, I thought that made me loving.

But over time I started realizing something uncomfortable. I was exhausted. I was resentful. And I now know that resentment is a diagnostic tool. I don’t know where I heard that terminology “diagnostic tool” about resentment, but I think it’s a very apt description for resentment when ti comes to boundaries.

Every time I felt resentful, it usually meant I was participating in something I hadn’t consciously and thoughtfully agreed to. I was overriding myself in the name of connection.

I had all these friendships where I was doing the vast majority of the work. I was always the one initiating contact, making plans, following up, checking in after they cancelled, trying to keep the relationship alive. And then I’d bitch about these people behind their backs. I felt justified because I was hurt and I blamed them. But I never addressed it directly with the actual person involved.

And eventually I realized, I don’t want to live like this anymore. Thank you, recovery! I honestly didn’t know I didn’t HAVE TO live like that until I got into recovery.

I no longer wanted to be someone who gossiped about people behind their backs because I was too afraid to tell them the truth to their face. Looking back, I can say I wasn’t trying to be malicious. I think I was trying to discharge pain somewhere because I didn’t know how to address things honestly. So I launched my pain at someone who wasn’t emotionally involved in the situation, and usually someone who would commiserate with me and make me feel justified in my complaints.

As I got healthier, I started experimenting with something that, for me, was pretty fucking radical. I stopped over-functioning.

I stopped constantly doing all the outreach. I stopped chasing people. I stopped carrying relationships on my back. And what happened was really eye-opening.

Some relationships disappeared completely.

Not because there was a fight or anyone did anything horrible.
But because the relationship had quietly depended on me over-functioning to sustain it.

That was hard and painful for me because I had to face the reality that some relationships only existed because I was holding them together through effort, anxiety, over-giving, and self-abandonment.

I actually had a conversation with a relative once where I finally addressed this directly. I said, “You may have noticed I didn’t contact you for Thanksgiving or Christmas or your birthday.”

And they said, “Oh, that’s okay.”

And I said, “Actually no, it’s not okay. It was intentional on my part because you’ve literally never once reached out to me first. Ever”

That was difficult for me to say because old me would’ve just quietly disappeared and stayed resentful. But I wanted to become someone who could have direct conversations instead of silently suffering.

So I told them, “I want you in my life, but it’s painful for me to always be the one doing all the outreach.”

And they responded with something really honest. They said, “Wow, I’m really sorry. I do love you.”

And I said, “Well, I don’t feel loved.”

That was one of the most honest things I’d ever said.

Because for years I’d spent enormous amounts of energy proving my care through effort while silently hoping someone would choose me back.

And they said something really revealing. They said, “Please don’t take it personally. I just don’t initiate relationships.”

And I remember thinking: that’s going to create a really difficult life for your relationships. Because if you never initiate relationships, you’ll either end up with people who over-function like I used to, or eventually you may find yourself very alone. I didn’t say that, because it’s none of my business.

There’s another layer to this that I started realizing over time too. I’ve had friendships where at first glance it looked like the investment was mutual because we both contacted each other regularly. But when I really looked at the relationship honestly, a lot of the contact revolved around their problems.

They called me when they were struggling, when there was drama. Or when they needed emotional support or insight or processing.

But they didn’t really call just to connect.
They didn’t really call to laugh, share joy, talk about dumb shit. Or to hear about my life.

And I started realizing there’s a difference between someone valuing you as a person and someone valuing the emotional labor you provide.

Now to be clear, I absolutely want relationships where we can go deep. I’m a deep person. I think deeply. I feel deeply. I need relationships where we can sit in the thick of things together sometimes.

But I don’t want relationships that only exist in the thick of things.

I want relationships where there’s reciprocity, not just in contact, but in emotional space.
Where both people can share.
Where both people can struggle.
Where both people can celebrate.
Where there’s curiosity about each other’s lives, not just crisis management.

And I think one of the social boundaries I’ve had to learn is recognizing when a relationship has quietly become organized around my capacity to hold other people emotionally. 

many people who are helpers, coaches, therapists, fixers, recovery people, or deeply empathetic end up building relationships where our role becomes:
the processor,
the stabilizer,
the wise one,
the listener,
the crisis person.

I’m happy to do that from time to time with friends, as long as there’s some reciprocity, and as long as that’s not all we do in 100% of our interactions.

Now I want to be clear. I don’t think healthy relationships are perfectly 50/50 all the time. Life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes someone is grieving or depressed or overwhelmed or going through a divorce or a health crisis, and of course we step up more during those seasons.

But healthy relationships do require mutuality.

There needs to be movement toward each other from both people. There needs to be willingness, investment, reciprocity, care.

If one person is always carrying the emotional labor of maintaining the relationship, eventually the relationship starts to feel lonely.

And one of the biggest social boundaries I’ve had to learn is this:

Connection that only exists because I’m overriding myself isn’t actually connection.

Today I pay attention to different things than I used to. I pay attention to whether a relationship feels nourishing or depleting. Whether I can actually be myself in it. Whether I feel chosen too instead of just useful.

I used to think maintaining relationships at all costs was proof that I was loving.

Now I think healthy love also includes letting other people show up.

And if they don’t, that tells me something important.