Friends can really queer your deal.
You think you’re all competent and able and a friend comes along and starts feeling sorry for you for whatever reason, obvious or not, and you become a six-year old looking for a big hand to hold crossing the street.
Sympathy and understanding from friends, the kind that puddles around coffee cups at Starbucks and makes for extra slow walks on the beach, makes people weaker not stronger. My resilience doesn’t grow with frequent watering from a sympathetic friend, it just gets dry and brittle.
Same goes with indulging fear. If my friend legitimizes my fear and makes it a central topic of discussion, my fear is normalized. It’s something that we now share while we both hang back from trying things that are risky and scary. There’s nothing more satisfying or more dead-end than having a friend who is on board with accentuating…
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