For most of my life I preferred stewing to facing confrontation head on. This aversion likely stemmed from the classic people-pleasing-unsteady-self-worth combination, but after tithing to the church of psychotherapy for almost a decade I believed, I healed my avoidant behavior. Over the past few years I have mustered a few arguments with my parents and have engaged in full emotional WWE Raw Smackdown fights with my wife. Something about saying forever really allowed me to feel comfortable letting it rip.
But fighting with friends? That seemed impossible. If someone cancelled plans? No problem! For the tenth time in a row and last minute? You got it girl! Did she say something slightly uncouth? I didn’t hear anything. It’d been all unconditional support and understanding, at times at the sake of my feelings, time, and energy. (This is not to say that I am a perfect friend. I, too, have gone through periods of being flakey, dismissive, and overall unsavory, of course.)
Then one afternoon I was rewatching old episodes of Sex in the City and my thoughts about friendship conflict changed. To be exact, I watched “Carrie’s ‘Big’ Fight with Miranda” (season 3 episode 18), and damn it if those two didn’t annihilate each other harder than a Jewish mom asking, “Are you sure you want seconds?” But ultimately the girls end up closer than before. Does conflict foster intimacy? I literally couldn’t help but wonder, was authentic conflict missing from modern friendships?
Psychotherapist, author, and cofounder of the Women Are Mad (WAM) movement Jennifer Cox reports conflict reluctance is more common than ever. “We’ve reduced so many of our IRL interactions with people, that we’ve actually forgotten how to handle many forms of human contact. So, when we find ourselves in direct conflict with another person, we literally don’t know what to do, or maybe never learned.”
Bokyung Kim, a New York based therapist, says that avoiding conflict in friendship is commonplace. “Living in a culture that centers romantic relationships and de-centers friendships, we tend to put a lot of relational work into our romantic relationships,” she says. “This norm can hinder our capacity to show up in our friendships in an honest, courageous, and committed way.”
The next time I noticed myself swallowing a feeling, I’d try to communicate, I told myself. The first confrontation was simple, more of asking for help in lieu of silently suffering. A friend and I had an upcoming dinner, but hadn’t secured a reservation. “Just let me know where you decide. Anytime after five works for me,” she texted. At that moment I was on maternity leave with a four-month-old, had a sick five-year-old, and was frantically looking for a new full-time job since my prior employer had tanked. Could I have technically figured it out? Yes, and my instinct was to add “make reservation” to the list. (I’m blessed with whatever the opposite of ADHD is, the type of brain that feels like it has a gun to your head.) But instead of being frustrated by her inability to read my mind, I texted back: “I’m swamped. Sick kid. Job hunt. Decision fatigue! Can you make a reservation?” I waited, holding my breath. “OFC! I got you!” she responded in seconds. I had to admit, it felt nice to be taken care of.
Jennifer Cox encourages those she advises to consider the full picture. “Is this issue coming up a lot in the friendship, or is it a one-off? Use ‘I feel’ statements, and don’t get caught up in who’s right and wrong. This person is your friend; you’re interested and invested in them, and how things feel for them too. The objective isn’t point-scoring, it’s about building better relationships.”
My second confrontation had been brewing for years. Cox encourages those she advises to consider the full picture. “Is this issue coming up a lot in the friendship,” she says, “or is it a one-off?” This wasn’t a one off. It was a hurt woven through a decades-long friendship. When I moved to New York City in my mid-twenties I met a woman who was funny, outspoken, and knew all the best bars. She taught me about pegging (pre–Broad City!), introduced me to Saint Vincent, and bought me my first kombucha. For some reason, she took my tacky suburban self under her seemingly hip wing.
A few years later, as people do, she moved and built a new life for herself, but we continued talking and saw each other when we could. We both had kids so traveling became trickier. Over the past handful of years we’d grown distant in proximity and emotion. As the years passed it seemed like she was only available to trauma dump or send the occasional “miss you” text, but always on her time. I was crushed and confused. This was one of my first friends in a new city during a transformational time. Even though I’d felt shut out for years, I held on. Life was hard after all! COVID happened after all! You can’t throw people out like trash, I decided!
This emotional breadcrumbing continued, until I confronted her this past summer. I crafted a message telling her how hurt I was and asking for better. For the first time in years, she responded within minutes. She was remorseful, and said she would call next week to catch up. This confrontation thing had succeeded again, I thought.
A week passed. Then another. It has been months, and she has yet to call, or text. While this behavior isn’t new, I feel differently about it. I had let my feelings and needs be known, and the message had been received. Our friendship, at least what it was, is over, but If I hadn’t confronted her I would have let this eat away at me for another five years. Acknowledging the potential hardship of a fight with a friend is vital, says Kim: “Be prepared to face hard feelings, and let yourself face it anyway with courage and kindness.” Looking back I can see our relationship over the past few years hadn’t even been a friendship. It was me chasing a ghost of what-had-been. And in the end, I’d rather have clear knowledge of where I stand than grasping for a relationship that doesn’t exist anymore.