Can I Really Rest My Head on Your Shoulders?

Johanna Ryder

I see friends who hug, hold hands, and say “I love you.” Friends who tell each other their dreams and fears and put their heads on each other’s shoulders when they cry. Friends who exhibit a level of comfort that distinguishes a friend from a best friend. I long for this kind of closeness in my friendships. However, I have struggled to act this comfortable around even some of my closest friends for quite some time. I have incredible friends, and I want to form deep, lasting connections with them, but I almost feel as though I have forgotten how.

I’ve come to realize that I stopped treating and accepting treatment from, my friends in this way after going through a friendship breakup. I became friends with a girl during my sophomore year of high school who, almost instantly, became my best friend. I felt like I could tell her everything, even as I was going through a time when I didn’t feel super comfortable sharing my deeper thoughts and feelings with others. Every weekend was spent at her house. We’d watch cheesy movies, swim in her pool, and walk her adorable dogs. We’d sit in her hammock and tell each other secrets. 

We would say “I love you” when I left her house. 

As time went on, it became expected that I would spend almost all my free time with her. I couldn’t hang out with my other friends without receiving some kind of passive-aggressive comment or text. But I always still enjoyed spending time with her—she was my best friend after all.

The true toxicity of our friendship began to set in when I got my first boyfriend. My friend would try to invite herself on our dates; when I said I thought that would be a little weird, she told me I wasn’t prioritizing our friendship. Maybe she was right, the last thing I wanted to do was become the girl who lost all her friends because she only spent time with her boyfriend. But deep down I knew I was never that girl—I always made a conscious effort to balance the time I spent with my friends, family, and boyfriend. Yet, no amount of time I spent with my friend ever seemed to be enough. 

The more jealous she became when I would hang out with other people, the less I felt I could trust her. I began to realize she hadn’t kept many of the secrets I had told her. Her mother, brother, and other friends knew personal things about me and my life that I had simply never told them. Her advice began to hold a manipulative undertone, and it became difficult to believe her when she said “I love you.”

As the situation became worse, I knew I had to distance myself. This was not easy and resulted in a chain of long, angry texts. I initially felt guilty when my friend would tell me I wasn’t prioritizing our friendship. But as time went on, guilt turned into frustration, and I didn’t even really want to fix the damages to our relationship.

I think it was after that point that I stopped being completely comfortable around my friends. I no longer held their hands or told them I loved them. Looking back, I think I developed a subconscious fear that becoming best friends with someone could lead to a toxic friendship. I put up boundaries after my friendship breakup—but I think I built my walls too high. With some of my friends, I feel a sense of disconnect which I can only attribute to the fear of becoming “too close”. I resent this fear and want that kind of closeness, that sense of sisterhood, back in my friendships again. 

In my new friendships at college, and even in my old friendships at home, I am trying to reset my boundaries; trying to take down some of the walls I have built up around me. I tell my friends I love them, and I really do. I’m learning to rest my head on their shoulders without feeling so afraid. 

Edited by Karima Ribeiro-Hassounah and Kate Castello