I can feel the sadness in your heart from a mile away. It hurts to know that you’re riding through this repetitive storm just like I am. I’m sorry your friends keep excluding you. I can totally relate to your embarrassment, mama.
You see . . . I’m the forgettable friend, too.
I think there must be one of us in every group of friends. When we become mothers, we tend to reformat the way we do friendships. As children, we stuck to one or two BFFs. As mothers, we learn to reshape that concept and form life groups. We start hanging out with a group of mom friends that is supposed to become our tribe. If we’re lucky, our mom friends will come with husbands who will build great friendships with our husbands; then we’re set up to be the ultimate #friendshipgoals. I can’t figure out how exactly those beautiful friendships can manage to morph into something painful, but after time has passed, moms like us become the forgettable friends.
I’m trying to figure out exactly how women like us get to be the forgettable friend. Sometimes, the process of being forgotten happens slowly when you’ve moved a little further out of town. Other times, you start to lose the closeness with your friends because of a new job taking up all of your time. Sometimes a new baby can suck the time away from you, until weeks and months have passed since you’ve seen your friends. It’s just so hard to pinpoint the exact reason moms like us get excluded in the first place. I guess, there is no way to really solve this kind of mystery.
The days when I get sucked down the rabbit hole, trying to find the reasoning behind my becoming the forgotten friend are often the days when I could use a friend the most. Mama, I hope if you are feeling these lonely emotions you might find comfort in knowing that I am with you, too. I know how painfully inadequate you must feel. I can’t offer you an explanation as to why your friends keep forgetting to include you. Just know, you’re not alone mama, there’s one of us in every group.
I wish I could sit with you, cringe, and laugh about the silly ways our feelings have been hurt while being the forgotten friend. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cried scrolling through Instagram photos of my friends having playdates without inviting me. I’ve lost track of the amount of times my friends have asked me if I’ve ever taken my kids to a cool place, then stumbled across a photo of them doing that same cool thing we discussed doing, with a different friend. I’ve shed so many tears thinking of whether my friends ever thought about inviting me to things. Mama, you’re not alone when you sob, wondering if you’re even an after-thought in your friend’s minds . . . I totally do it, too.
Sweet sister, it pains me to know that we both often feel so sad and I need you to hear some advice from a friend: mama, you are so valuable. It’s a shame that your friends can’t see that. Mama, it’s OK to let your friends know how much they’ve hurt you. Mama, you are so incredibly loved by your partner and children . . . don’t ever lose sight of how much they cherish you. Mama, you are also adored by a loving Father in heaven, and you can always go to Him with your troubles and sadness.
Mama, sometimes your life friends won’t be your best friends. Please, don’t let their obliviousness cause you to hold an ounce of bitterness in your heart. Forgive them, because chances are your friends have no idea how much the isolation hurts you. Continue to be a light to those friends who keep forgetting you, mama. Being the forgettable friend doesn’t need to define who you are . . . because you are a beautiful soul. You can still leave the encouraging comments on social media. You can totally continue to drop heart emojis on their cute photos. Don’t let the hurt of being excluded change your encouraging persona. You can still love your friends from afar, but it’s okay to find comfort in new, supportive friendships, too. You deserve to feel valued. I am praying that you might find a new friend who can meet you halfway. In the meantime, just know—you are never alone. I’m with ya, sister.