When Friendship Feels Too Heavy

A love letter to the friends I miss—and the ones I haven’t met yet.

There are days when replying to a message feels like climbing a mountain.
Not because I don’t care.
But because I do.

I carry a body that gets overwhelmed by noise, by plans, by light.
I carry a mind that’s still healing—from grief, from addiction, from always trying to be "on."
And I carry a heart that wants so deeply to be there for people I love—
but runs out of energy long before it runs out of affection.

I think about you more than you know.
I remember birthdays late, reply in drafts, cancel plans I wanted to keep.
It’s not personal.
It’s capacity.

Some days I choose stillness not because I don’t want to connect—but because I have to conserve the energy it takes to mother well the next day.
Because turning up for my daughter as the calmest, most present version of myself matters more than being the friend who’s always available.

That choice feels invisible to others.
It looks like flakiness. Or disinterest.
But it’s actually love—just redirected.

I live in a body that demands recovery.
I live with a condition that punishes over stretching.
And I live in a world that doesn’t quite understand either.

So yes, I’ve failed at being the kind of friend I used to be or want to be.
But I’m no longer willing to betray my health—or return to a life I fought hard to leave—just to be more socially acceptable.

There’s loneliness here sometimes.
But there’s also peace.
There’s a quiet hope that one day I’ll find a slower circle.
Friends who understand that love doesn’t always look like showing up in person.
That being thought of, prayed for, or gently checked in on weeks later still counts.

If you're reading this and nodding—maybe we haven’t met yet, but I think we’re already friends.
The kind who leave the light on, even when we’re not always in the room.

And to the ones who stayed, even in my silence:
Thank you for seeing my heart, not just my presence.

I'm not gone.
I’m just learning to live gently now.

– Anna 🌿
The Calm Creative Mum