It was like watching my gardens bear fruit.

Many years ago, back in my freshman year of college, I had a friend named Laura. We were close; we saw each other regularly, and we often talked about the things teenage girls do. I enjoyed her friendship quite a bit, despite only knowing her a few months.

Then, sometime in the winter, Laura’s boyfriend broke up with her. It was the typical story: they dated since early high school, arranged to go to the same college, and found themselves pulled apart by the distractions of campus life. Laura was devastated.

I tried my best to be a good friend to her. She grieved, and I listened. She cried, and I was the shoulder she could cry on. Every time I saw her, I hoped things would get better for her — but days turned into weeks turned into months, and things didn’t really get better. Everything reminded her of him. Everything hurt, all the time.

Around the end of the school year, it dawned on me how exhausted I was, and how unhealthy our dynamic had become. She was drowning, and despite my best attempts to help her, I started to drown, too. She needed someone to sit with her in her pain, and I had hit my limit. I just couldn’t do it anymore.

Eventually, I told her: if she couldn’t move forward, I’d have to pull back.

She was hurt, and understandably so. I was abandoning her. I was essentially telling her, Our friendship is no longer worth the burden of taking care of you.

…sounds brutal when you put it that way, right?

In truth, I don’t remember exactly how our conversation concluded, but we stopped talking after that. I’ve thought back on it many times since then, wondering if I was the villain in this scenario. I mean, who abandons their friends after they get dumped? What kind of selfish jerk can’t sit with their friends while they grieve the loss of something they loved?

I’ve continued to ask myself questions like this over the years — about how much space I’m supposed to give the people in my life, how much of my emotional energy they’re allowed to have. I’ve never really gotten a clear answer on that. Still, I’ve been doing my best to figure it out.

But today…well, today is a day where I feel like I got it right. And I’d like to tell you about it.

This morning, I awoke to a long text message from a friend. We’ve known each other for a couple of months — and while we’ve connected in a meaningful way, there are still important boundaries in place. I’ve learned that deep connections take time, and we just aren’t there yet.

In short, their message went a little something like this:

Hi Lea, I’m dealing with a lot right now, and my mental isn’t in a good place. I’m struggling to keep my emotions in check. I want to honor the boundary you’ve set, so I’m going to put some distance between us while I work through my stuff.

This message didn’t come as a surprise; you see, this friend of mind has had a lot on their plate. And the last time we hung out, I communicated some discomfort I was feeling in our friendship. I explained that — while they have every right to be anxious about the big changes in their life, and every right to express that anxiety — I wasn’t comfortable with how much they were bringing that anxiety into our relationship. In short, our friendship was too new for them to receive the kind of caretaking they were pulling out of me. If they couldn’t compartmentalize their distress, I’d need distance when things were particularly acute for them.

To be clear: their expression of anxiety wasn’t inherently wrong or unhealthy. But the dynamic that was forming between us did not feel aligned with my values and boundaries. It was too much, too soon.

I won’t lie to you, friends: reading that text message felt like the turning point in a decades-long war. It was like watching my gardens bear fruit. I did the thing! I proactively communicated a boundary with someone whose warmth and openness naturally challenged my boundaries. I didn’t wait until I was drowning. Even better, that boundary was met with understanding and mutual respect.

And that’s fucking incredible.

In situations like this, where a friend is asking for more than you can give, I think it’s easy to default to black-and-white thinking.

This person’s being a bummer? You don’t need ‘em.

Or alternatively, If you’re actually friends, it’s on you to be the stability they need.

But human relationships are complicated. Navigating them in a healthy way requires a thoughtful approach. Sure, in many ways, its easier to write someone off than to establish and enforce a nuanced boundary; or conversely, to throw away the boundaries altogether. But that’s not how we develop mutually respectful relationships. And allowing ourselves to fall back on those overly simplistic frameworks isn’t how we grow as human beings.

For years, I sat with the guilt of abandoning Laura. I had offered myself as an emotional vending machine until I couldn’t take it anymore. And as a result, I lost that friendship. Who knows what would have happened if I’d been honest sooner, with both her and myself?

This morning, I got to find out — at least in the context of this friendship. In a strange twist of irony, choosing to put distance between us actually made me feel more secure and connected in our relationship.

So today, sitting in this coffee shop, I feel grateful: grateful for my growth, grateful for my friend who chose to honor my boundaries…and grateful for you, wherever you may be, for continuing on this journey with me.

Have a wonderful day, friend :)