Inexplicably, the people in my life have always seemed comfortable talking to me about almost anything. Hopes, dreams, fears, traumas, life, death, and everything in between. I’ve had conversations that last hours and hours, detailing life stories and overwhelming thoughts and past friendships and future plans. I’ve talked to friends, family, acquaintances, and even strangers about the deepest and darkest parts of their minds and what has gotten them to where they are today. I’ve given advice to people on issues I’ve never had, people I’ve never met, and lives I’ll never live. Through these experiences, I’ve found myself in the peculiar position of being the therapist friend.
I never planned it. I never thought to myself, “How do I make people tell me everything they’re thinking and feeling? How do I become somebody that people rely on?” Somehow, it just happened. For some people, this role might seem like an absolute nightmare. They might dread when someone brings up an uncomfortable topic or asks them for advice about something personal. But, while I can understand why some might be unhappy if they were in my shoes, I have discovered that I’ve grown quite fond of my position over the years.
Now, this isn’t to say that I’ve always enjoyed it. In fact, there have been many instances in my life when I’ve felt a bit overwhelmed or even irritated with idea that I had to be emotionally available for everyone, at any time. I felt like it was my responsibility to take care of everyone who came to me for advice, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. When I had moments of difficulty in my own life, I began to resent this “responsibility” and I even tried to close myself off from the people I was closest to, in fear of the next moment I would be needed to aid in a crisis of sorts. I thought that I could handle my own problems and they can handle theirs. I wanted to divorce myself from my empathy to deal with the stress of what I felt was my job.
As I’ve come to realize, however, it is not my responsibility to help everyone. It is not my responsibility to fix other people’s problems, give them advice, or listen to them. Nobody is forcing me, and I wouldn’t be a bad person if I didn’t want to take on the “therapist” role. But I do want to. I do want people to come to me when they need help, to feel comfortable opening up to me and letting me know what is on their minds and what struggles they are dealing with. I want my friends, family, acquaintances, and even strangers to have someone they know will be there to listen to them no matter what.
As I have grown more accustomed to my role, I have learned how to maintain it in a healthier way than before. Since I know that I have allowed myself to become overwhelmed by it in the past, I’ve learned to set boundaries so that I can protect my own mental health while still being able to help others. If I know that I am not emotionally prepared to talk through a problem with someone in need, I let them know and try to support them in other ways. If I can’t talk to them in-depth, I send them funny videos or uplifting poems, I invite them to a relaxing get-together or a quick lunch, and I encourage them to seek advice or help elsewhere from someone reliable. Though I used to fear that this made me selfish, I have come to understand that it is actually beneficial to the people in my life if I take care of myself as well. I can’t help them if I am not helping myself because I need to be both mentally and emotionally present in order to offer my best advice.
Even if it might not seem like the most desirable role, being the “therapist friend” has actually given me a sense of purpose in life as I feel like I can create positive change in the world. There have been and will be times when my advice isn’t quite right or I can’t help someone as much as I’d like, but I want to focus on the good that I can do. I am still growing and changing, my perspective on the world constantly evolving, and I would like to think that I have much more to offer to the world and especially to the people around me.