Why We Fight Harder For Our Friends Than Ourselves

I came home from a night out once, heels slapping the face of the kitchen floor and me close to doing the same to another. I set my rectangular interface on the island, the screen of it bright with and even the touch of it, disappointing. Or, rather, disappointment was what was being received that night. 

That night, I was supposed to hang out with the guy I’d been dating—until an empty house with no parents, his friends, and video games turned a good response to “What time you thinking? :)” to “I’m still at my friends sorry.”

My anger was white hot and its flame could sear volumes instead of a text message, the small, blank bubble that was waiting to be filled before me. 

I started drafting my honesty, but that was it—it was just honesty. It was a blank scroll before me; how did I even begin to record this overdue manifesto? When there’s so much to say, that’s when I need to say nothing; I know myself well-enough. 

But, like a business plan that you don’t leave on the shelf, but instead, continually alter it as your information and vision change, I’m constantly learning me.

 A new lesson was before me when in my silence, my mom prodded me. “What would you do if someone treated Mandy [one of my BEST, closest, and dearest friends] like this? Put Mandy in here—what would you do?”

Mandy is amazing—the sweetest, kindest girl with a heart of pure gold. If some guy was treating her like this, there are a thousand things I would do to him and that means I haven’t found one good enough yet to serve in retribution. How DARE he treat her like that! He’s an idiot who doesn’t know what the %#@ a diamond looks like.

And that’s when I realized we fight harder for our friends than ourselves. That’s when I realized everyone saw me the same way I saw Mandy: everyone was ready to light their torches and unzip out their torture cases. 

How could I miss someone like that? It wasn’t a lack of knowing my self-worth that kept me silent or that had landed me in that place. It was my love for him, all my affection that flew to the front of everything. 

The answer lies in this realization. We aren’t in our friends’ shoes; where they have their feet in concrete, we’d be off running. The person I see, feeling no emotion for, and could easily walk away from is someone they can’t let go. So for this realization, step into my heels: This is the guy you’re head over heels for, and you know this situation okay—that’s what makes it all the worse…because you will (and have, note the past tense) chosen yourself first. It was self-respecting, but undeniably lonely. You’ll do it, but the memory is even closer than the fibers on your body.   

Stepping outside the subjective space I was continually sinking in, I drafted a text message with Mandy’s behalf in mind. It was then the fog cleared and I found a vocabulary and composition again. It was then I got angry. It was then the demand for respect entered the message. 

“Honestly, I am beyond disappointed and done with my time being jerked around, it is SO disrespectful and rude. You asked me to hang out and I stayed out for you. That's awesome you and your friends hang out, but please don't toss me aside when you already asked me to get together; there's a life and a schedule and feelings on the other side of your cancellations.  Friends don't even treat each other this way, with no replies to text messages and plans that never come through. It's clear you were spot on about your priorities from the other night, and it's quite telling when you're playing videos and I'm sitting at [insert restaurant], killing time waiting for you and one of the [insert career title] asks me out. I forgot what that priority and attention was like as I've been waiting in the balance for you and it never happens. Enjoy your weekend with your friends & I'm taking that invitation go back to [yes, that place!] tomorrow night.”

I knew to him it would just be words until there was a living threat behind that alphabet. Someone did ask me out that night. I’m monogamous from the moment I like someone, so I had a slight hesitation about including this fact, but it really did illustrate the moment between us. Knowing my words wouldn’t change anything, I had to pull the trigger of truth for the message my friend had inspired me in. 

Q:  Why is it easier to stand up for our friends? We live with ourselves and anything that happens can hurt or better us. Isn’t that what we should fight and care more about?

A: It’s easier to stand up for our friends, because their lives aren’t our lives: we don’t see the risks, we don’t care about image, we’re not worried what he’ll, she’ll, or they’ll think. We abandon fear and we forget all the reasons why we shouldn’t. We do these things because we see that amazing, special, incredible person who deserves a thousand-fold better than what is sitting before them. 

It’s easy because we love them. And it’s also easy because it won’t be us sitting there alone afterwards; it won’t be us trying to build up that belief of, “Yes, I made the right decision,” and believe it with no doubt. It won’t be us there, living with the consequences of defense. 

We dilute our own selves with doubt, variable self-worths, lies we take as truth, until who we are is convoluted to us. We know ourselves and can be sure of us, but to some degree, we don’t get the purest, highest concentrate of who we are. 

We see how amazing our friends, siblings, parents, all those we love are, because we’ve always been looking at them. We don’t walk around looking in mirrors, literal and figurative, to see ourselves. 

But, I’m starting to think we need to.