The Dark Time My Friends Got Me Through

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At 26, I left my first husband. We’d met after college on the New York City subway. He was an intoxicating cocktail of charm, hair-trigger rage and brilliant IQ. During a cold December night, my denial that his abuse left me as broken as the wedding pictures tossed around me, I finally called the police, filed a protective order and changed my locks.

I expected my family to pick up the pieces of my broken heart, guiding me as I rebuilt my life. My sister tried to offer emotional support, but she was a teenager. My mother gave me money, which I needed badly, but she’d never been a therapist type of mom. My father stayed aloof, fearing my messy public marital failure would impugn his legal career. My favorite aunt, herself in an abusive relationship, let my violent ex live rent-free at her house with my beloved little cousins — for an entire year.

Who got me through this dark time? My friends.

One girlfriend told me I had to leave my partner because what he was doing was wrong, and that I could never have children with an abuser. Another said that next time, I had to hold out for a man who loved me as much as she did. A third promised that one day, this early marriage would feel like a nightmare that happened to someone else.

The idea that family will protect and heal us, no matter the crisis, sets us up for disappointment. “Family members often bring their own often outdated perspective of you and may unintentionally treat you as they see fit, not as you truly need,” explains Brooke Evans, an online licensed therapist specializing in Internal Family Systems. “In contrast, close friends usually see you as a capable adult, and offer support tailored to your needs.”

Our unrealistic expectations can lead to heartbreak or a deep, lasting sense of betrayal. While our family may indeed love us, it’s naive — maybe even destructive — to expect family to be our friends. The role they serve is actually quite different. Family might always be there; this doesn’t mean they are the ones who get us there.

Friends, however, are experts at friendship. They are, most often, the ones who pull us through life’s toughest challenges. Data backs up how critical friends are to a long, happy, healthy life. The world-renowned Harvard Study of Adult Development, which researched 724 men over 80 years, found that deep, benevolent relationships are fundamental for long-term health and happiness.

Even more important than family, our friendships, free of chronic tensions, are statistically correlated with enhanced physical and mental health, keeping chronic diseases and cognitive decline at bay. Interestingly, quality matters more than quantity: the study highlights that having a few close, compassionate relationships is more beneficial than having multiple superficial ones.

Friends, if you pick the right ones, are less conditional than family. Friends aren’t jealous of parental affections. They don’t harbor longstanding resentments over who got picked in kickball or got their own bedroom first. Friends don’t live with you and your daily annoyances. Friends won’t judge your romantic mishaps or secrets. Friends don’t tell you what to do, how much weight you need to lose, or to stop leaving the toilet seat up.

In my case, my family loved me, but they didn’t understand the complex dynamics of abuse. Plus, they’d been drawn in by my husband’s seductive personality. Herein lies the rub — often we cannot rely on family to help us deal with emotionally complex life conflicts, because quite often, they are too close to the drama to be detached enough to help.

“I have one grandchild and my younger sister has seven, and believe me, I would love to have seven,” says my friend Beth, 70. “My sister often reminds me that my three married daughters ‘better get on it,' or else I won’t make it to their high school graduation. Like really? My best friends who are my age tell me how lucky I am to have one grandchild. Good friends are about solidarity, not competition.”

I recently faced one of those life reckonings most of us encounter at some point as we age. To decide what to do and what support I needed to get through it, I assembled a small group of people who had all known me for more than 35 years. We met via Zoom and established an ongoing text support group for a six-month period until I got through the hardest days. They were all friends — wise, supportive, harmonious and loving.

I did not ask a single family member to participate.

Especially as we age, we need a friendship cabinet. Folks who understand us, and are relatively unconflicted about when and how we die, and to whom we leave our home, jewelry or bank account. People who simply know us and care deeply about us. This is sometimes family. Sometimes, that’s too much to ask of family.

 
Are any of you fortunate enough to have friends who are like family? Let us know in the comments below.