I’m a pretty rubbish friend, but it’s not that I don’t care… 

I recently read a great article about what makes a good friend in the online magazine Pool. You can read it here

It got me to thinking about how I’m full of shortcomings as a friend myself. 

Dear friends (I so wanted to add Romans, countrymen to that) 
Firstly I’m so sorry I’m so rubbish at keeping in touch. Please let me try to explain. 
When every year I make promises about how next year I’m going to be better at keeping in touch and how I really mean it this year – I absolutely do mean it, I’m not just talking nonsense I promise. When we do meet up and get together and I have such a great time being around you and I enthuse about how we must do this more often – I genuinely mean what I say. 

The thing is, and I’m sure you must know this too as busy people, life gets in the way. 

I think of you often. People I used to be so close to but then you leave contact so long you feel like you can’t reconnect. It’s so silly. 
I think to myself “ooo I must text (insert name here)” then children need feeding or I need to referee a bicker and in a minute becomes tomorrow becomes next week, next month. 

I know and known some really amazing people. Truly incredible individuals who helped me in the darkest times. When my mum died, when I left the abusive relationship.
 I’ve been lucky. 

I’d love to be a bit more organised and arrange more meet ups and get togethers. Sometimes it is as simple as my disorganisation that causes a problems. 

Sometimes though, my anxiety rears it’s ugly head telling me I’ve nothing to contribute to adult conversation so how about I just keep my distance rather than bore people to death. 

The thing is we all do have our hands full, whether that’s  with work, or children or caring for other people or a combination of all 3. Just please don’t think I don’t care. I do. 

Sometimes though it’s just easier to click like or write a few words on a Facebook status than it is to pick up the phone. That’s daft in itself as there are times I’ll be talking to the kids about something we once did and I really mean to send a message. 

These are rubbish excuses I know. 

I need to make  more of an effort. 

I will. 
I’m sorry. 
I do think of you. 
I do miss you. 
I’ll be better! 
I’ve even bought  a diary. 

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