Don’t Make Your Friends Choose

I could write a whole book on friendships and divorce. 

It's so multifaceted — tangled up in our communication styles, our histories with loss, the way we each handle being hurt. There are so many juicy threads in here: how to share without overburdening the people you love. How to ask for the specific kind of help a friend would actually be glad to give. How to tell whether complaining about your ex is a cathartic release — or whether it's quietly keeping you in a loop that leaves you feeling hopeless, powerless, furious, or doubting a decision you already made.

(File that under: another email.)

And the research keeps landing in the same place — our friendships are not a nice-to-have for our mental health. They're load-bearing. [Surgeon General's advisory on loneliness and connection.]

But here's the actual question → how do we tend to our friendships when we're running on empty? When we barely have enough for the kids, the lawyer, the inbox, ourselves?

I'm going to give you three tips that might annoy you. They annoy me. They ask us to reach for a higher level of emotional intelligence or groundedness, instead of revenge, or its quieter cousin — being seen as the one who was right all along. But if you're anything like me, they'll also ring true.

1. Your mutual friends don't want to choose.

This includes your in-laws, if you actually like them.

Even if your ex said something genuinely unkind about you — or a very selectively edited version of the truth — most of these people do not want to pick a side. They want to keep you both. What they actually feel is awkward: they don't know how to talk to you now, they don't want to hurt either of you, and they really don't want to be the referee deciding who was right and who was wrong.

So here's the superstar move: let them keep being friends with your ex. And tell them they don't have to choose — which, to be honest, also means they don't have to sit and listen to you badmouth your ex. Then tell them, plainly, how much their friendship means to you.

Reality check: some people will still drift, or quietly choose not to continue. That happens. But many will stay — some right away, some after a while. Telling them they don't have to choose is how you leave the door open instead of closing it and deciding later that they're the one who walked.

2. Sometimes “they pulled away” is actually us.

Our brains are tremendously good at soap operas. “They haven't texted in two weeks, so clearly they've been thinking ___ about me; they've obviously decided ___ about the divorce; they probably don't even want to hang out anymore”.

Maybe. Or it could be one of 497 other reasons that have nothing to do with you.

So instead of writing their inner monologue for them, ask for, and model, the kind of connection you actually want. Want a weekly walk? Invite them — and ask if you can just make it a standing thing. Want to talk it out on your Friday morning commute? Say so. People can't show up for a version of closeness you never asked for out loud.

3. Be freaking direct.

Ask them what it's like to support you through this. What feels easy? What feels hard? Check whether they feel heard by you about what's going on in their life, too. Ask them what they need.

Being direct is kind of my whole theme. Really, it's kind of the only tip.

You can't make anyone stay. But you can stop scripting their exit for them, stop making them pick a team, and start saying the true thing out loud.

That part's yours.