Corner of Bourbon & Division

My computer bit the dust about three weeks ago. More specifically, the keyboard. I took it to Best Buy, they shipped it to Toronto and told me I'd get it back within a week. This, obviously, was not the case. I'm happy to have it back, and what a difference a new keyboard makes! I hadn't realised just how worn the previous one had become, but typing now is a far sight easier than before, as the keys are much more responsive than I'm used to. So, apart from the fact that it was rather expensive (thank you, Apple) and took three times as long as I was told it would, I have no regrets.

I happened to notice, especially after I'd brought my computer in for repairs, that my social interactions of late have been very one-sided. Apart from a few friends (I can count them on the fingers of one hand and have fingers left over), I am always the one to initiate any kind of interaction. People don't speak to me, I speak to them, and then they answer. People don't invite me to do things together, I invite them, and then they answer.

While my computer was in the shop, I decided not to post at all on social media (I'm not talking about LiveJournal, because I am the first to own that I have neglected this space for years) and see if anyone actually wanted to talk to me without my initiating the conversation. Crickets. Loads of crickets. No one so far has even noticed I was gone for three weeks (not counting the people I speak to live, like coworkers and my parents and one or two friends who aren't on social media much or at all, so they couldn't actually notice my absence for practical reasons).

At first, I got seriously miffed. I mean, full-on pity-party miffed, even though I personally hate it when other people perform arbitrary "tests" of friendships like that. It's a test that people are guaranteed to fail, after all, and the only person who really gets hurt in the process is the one who initiated said test. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, right? It allows you to collapse on your fainting couch with the back of your hand plastered to your forehead and declare mournfully that it's obvious no one loves you. I knew this going in, but what can I say? It's February, I'm stressed and overworked and depressed, and so it seemed like a good idea at the time. Spoiler alert: it wasn't a good idea.

I spent a few days this week nursing my miffedness. Yes, that's a word. Because I said so. Anyway, after nursing my miffedness to the heights of self-pity, I had a different thought today. Why am I thinking of friendship as a two-way street? Why is reciprocity so important to me? I've had friends stick by me in the past when I wasn't reciprocating, after all (you know who you are, and I will be forever grateful to you for that, by the way). Right now, many of my RL friends have young families and stressful jobs and mortgage payments. Others have major life events happening. Others might be going through things I have no inkling about, because they have chosen to keep those things private, which is entirely their right. Others are hibernating, because winter in Canada is a bitch.

I have always viewed myself as a Good Friend™, which is problematic in and of itself. Because, sometimes, I'm not a good friend. I get wrapped up in my job. I go through periods of intense introversion. I get caught up in my own problems. I often don't notice when people stop posting on social media until they come back, and then I'm happy to see them again. "Hey," I realise, "I haven't seen that person in weeks! How nice to see them again!" So it's not like I don't know that my little experiment was the height of hypocrisy.

In short, this morning I both had a realisation and came to a decision. It's probably not a coincidence that this happened as I was on my way to Meeting, which is always cause for reflection and self-examination. I decided that I'm going to work very hard on no longer demanding reciprocity from my friendships. I have no control over other people's emotions or actions, only over my own.

Therefore it is my role, in my friendships, to be as good a friend as I can be, and not to expect friendship in return.

I wish you all the joy of the season. To those of you who are celebrating, much contentment and affection in the presence of your loved ones. For those of you who don't celebrate this day, all the happiness that you could wish for on any day of the year. For those of you who can't celebrate for reasons outside of your control, I hope that all the abundance of love and joy and hope in the world spills over and fills all the spaces in your lives—because luckily there isn't a finite amount of the stuff, and the more people engage in it the more there is to go around.

I love all of you. Thinking of all of you today, and always, even if I'm not always around to type it out on my screen. :)