The Heavy Friend

Have you ever felt like you couldn’t share the truth amongst a group of friends or even with your closest friend when asked “how are you?” because you felt it would land with the thud of an anchor, bringing down the mood of those asking?

I was at a cocktail party - no, that sounds too fancy - a ladies’ happy hour in the neighborhood, when I started chatting with a neighbor I didn’t yet know very well. She and I had exchanged some messages when I had previously reached out to our group text thread about finding memory care options in Knoxville. She shared that she too was navigating what the recent diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s meant for her mom. When we connected that night, I let her know how relieved I was that we had found a place that seemed like it was going to be a good fit for my mom. As we talked about the realities of being a caregiver in this situation, we started to laugh at ourselves when we realized those around us were giggling away while we were deep in the throes of a not-so-fun conversation at this otherwise lighthearted affair over drinks. We both acknowledged how nice it felt to be able to share so openly and honestly about what we were dealing with. It was then that she brought up a concept that has stuck with me. She said that she and her husband had talked about how they often felt like the “heavy friends” due to what they were facing with her mom as well as having a son in a wheelchair. I immediately knew what she meant.

I’ve had many friends tell me that they admire my strength or the grace with which I handle my situation. I’ve had elders tell me how fortunate my mom is to have me for a daughter (all while I of course struggled internally to feel like I was doing/giving “enough”). I’ve had my therapist tell me that the load I’ve carried is unusually heavy for someone my age. All of those comments were uplifting and reassuring. They reminded me that I was doing the best I could with the hand I was dealt and that I’m resilient.

But aren’t we all? I would argue that every person among us, especially anyone who has lived to reach adulthood has suffered. To do so is to be human. I have friends who have gone through ugly divorces, suffered abuse, battled cancer, lost siblings, lost children, lost both parents all too soon, and even struggled with the urge to complete suicide. Yet, we are all still here, moving forward, trending upward. Trying to compare or rank our level of hurt is not fruitful.

I don’t believe feeling like “the heavy friend’ is indicative of having a weightier load to carry. I think it is that the load being carried is not one currently or commonly witnessed amongst your peers and for that reason it feels like it can’t be shared. But sometimes, we want to share. We don’t want to be the strong ones. We don’t want to be full of grace (even when it is the very definition of our names - I see you fellow Annas and Hannahs).

What I know is that my own loss, my own grief, my own familial struggles have felt heavy. Losing my dad to suicide and then feeling as though I am parenting my mom without him here to carry some of that burden as her spouse while also trying to raise my 3 year old without my parents to lean on has felt heavy. The fact that the dementia road is a long and winding one paved with anticipatory grief has felt heavy. It often seemed as though we made progress towards achieving stability only to be confronted with yet another weighty decision. Saw doctors. Had medicines prescribed. Revoked driver’s license. Adjusted medicines. Hired part-time in home care. Hired full-time in home care. Researched care facilities. Moved to 24/7 care community. Adjusted medicines. Navigated falls, ER visits, basic hygiene needs, etc. outside of care hours along the way. It has all felt heavy.

I’ve noticed recently, however, that my load has gradually shifted from feeling like an anchor around my neck to one of those little weighted travel pillows - not nearly as heavy and not nearly as uncomfortable. This shift is partially because my situation is continuing to evolve, but primarily because I am surrounded by those who can help me manage the weight simply by listening to the honest thud of an answer after asking “how are you?” or “how is your mom?” I have learned which friends are my easy breezy (interested in surface level answer) ones, and I know which ones want to know the truth to those questions. Neither is bad. Friends who pull you out of your head and encourage the lighthearted escapism that is so necessary from time to time are essential. I’ve discovered though, that friends who not only listen but share the honesty of their own burdens right back to me and allow me to support them are the ones that truly fill my cup while simultaneously lightening my load.

If you are feeling like a “heavy friend” in this season of life I’d encourage you to find a support group of others facing the same or a similar struggle as you are. I’d encourage you to share about your journey openly if you feel so called. I recognize that the level with which I share is uncomfortable for some. It is something that has helped me along this journey as others have let me know they felt seen in my vulnerability, so I will continue to share. I’d encourage you to pay attention to which friends of yours share both the highs and the lows with you to know that you are safe to do the same. If you are feeling like the “heavy friend” without a support system to help lighten the load, I’d be honored to listen. Float on, friends.