the value of friendships

I’ve been thinking lots about friendships recently. In fact that was why there was such a big gap between posts last month – because I was trying to work out how to write this one.

We all know that friendships are a hugely important element of happy lives. Because friends choose us. They choose us, and them making that choice boosts our confidence. And those friends that choose us, and stick with us are our touchstones, our sense of self worth, our happy memories, and the people that make us roar with laughter. Theirs are the hands that hold ours when we’re sad and broken, that pick us up and dust us off before they tell us it’s all going to be ok, and because they are our friends we believe them.

Friends let’s face it are kind of magic.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot in the last month for two reasons.

Firstly in my new job I’ve been hanging out with lots of young people with autism. We’ve talked about all sorts of things but whatever we start off talking about the conversation always comes back to friendship. Young people have spoken to me about loneliness, about bullying, about the enjoyment they get from friends, and about the difference it makes to their confidence to be truly seen and truly accepted.

And children and young people with additional needs can find it hard to make friends. Our education systems are busy teaching children to conform – it’s hard to get 30 five year olds to do stuff, so we reward them when they fit in. And so children believe that fitting in is good – and they can consciously or unconsciously punish children that don’t. And so really unfairly those children who have to work hardest to manage the school environment, are often also the children without the comfort of friends. And that’s tragic.

As an adult I have several autistic friends who I value really highly – but was I a nice enough, brave enough little girl to have built those friendships with these people who don’t (thank god) conform even a little bit back then? I really don’t know. And that’s a shame – because knowing the joy these friends bring to my life now, I can’t help but think they could have made my childhood even more of a riot!

Which brings me to the second reason I’m thinking a lot about friendship at the moment. My best friend left London in March, and it’s going to change my life.

The best Friend

As a 35 year old woman I know I sometimes get judged for talking about my ‘best friend’. I’ve had people ask me if I think I’m still at school – tease me about whether I list people in order of preference, or if we braid each others hair (never) and have sleepovers (sometimes).

And I get it. I do. There is something very primary school about having a named best friend – but at the same time there would be something very dishonest about referring to Cat as anything else.

I am lucky to have some wonderful friends – the ladies in women’s hour, my Sheffield gang, Bob & Laura, my sisters. I’m not short of people. But Cat is different.

She’s different because she’s the first person I chose that I’ve kept, and I’m the same for her. We’ve been friends now for more than 25 years. We were friends when we were largely unformed as human beings, and we’ve stayed friends through primary and secondary school, through parental illness, family strife, boyfriends, marriages, pets, jobs and houses.

I distinctly remember when I first noticed Cat. We went to a small school where there weren’t quite enough children for a 2 form intake, so some classes had a mix of two year groups in them.In gymnastics one day our (slightly hot tempered) gym teacher, let off at a girl I hadn’t seen before. He shouted at her for going to get something before she was given permission. The girl had long blond hair in a plait and looked like butter wouldn’t melt, she didn’t answer back & did exactly what she was told, but I noticed her face set and her fists clench, and saw in her a bit of the steel there was in me.

Massive Geeks - but best bud geeks

I was a good little girl. Worryingly good really. I was shy and quiet and I read in the playground. My school reports referred to me as kind, and helpful and well behaved – and that was certainly partly true. But I was also a very angry little thing who had seen that there was unfairness in the world and really didn’t like it. At ten it’s difficult to express complexity in emotions. There were the good children, who were happy. And the angry children who were naughty. And I thought those were the options. I thought I was the odd one out for being confident but quiet, angry but well behaved.

Cat was the first other child I met who I saw that complexity in. She was never the loudest, but she was self confident to the point of cockiness, deeply imaginative, and darkly funny. She also believed in fairness just as much as I did.

We made friends after she invited me round to see her horse. I believed that no-one in real life actually owned a horse – and basically went round to catch her in a lie. Instead I spent the evening picking up her (totally non fictional) horses poo. Picking up poo might not sound like the most fun thing for two 10 year olds to spend the evening doing – but it was brilliant. We made jokes and the other person laughed – it was a bit of a miracle really – because we even then had wonky senses of humour. Anyway I walked home confident I’d made a friend for life.

Yes - we were exactly that cool

Cat and I made our way through secondary school, with shared friends, shared crushes, shared late night/ early morning walks home from indie clubs singing at the top of our lungs. We walked our parents dogs together every day of our childhood, and then when I got my own dog we walked her together every Saturday morning. The rhythm of our lives is in those walks and the evenings drinking cider and talking about nothing at all. We featured heavily in each others weddings, we’ve career counselled each other, and listened to one another figure out our lives long after everyone else has lost interest and walked away.  

So when I claim Cat as my best friend – it’s not a transitory term to be given or taken away on a whim. It’s an official title and it’s lifelong.

At the end of my hen night

I know I’m lucky to have had the same best mate since I was 10. I know it’s rare – but I’m also pretty sure that women like me- those of us with the same best mate since childhood – we can spot each other in bars. We might not make a huge amount of effort because we’re confident we’re likeable – I mean we must be, right? Because our favourite person in the world picked us years ago, and still unequivocally thinks we rock.  We remember our teenage selves as likeable – because we’ve heard our friend tell those stories and we come out of them sounding ok – so it can’t have been as much of a car crash as everyone else says.

Knowing our friends like us helps us like ourselves. And every embarrassing story from my teenage years – I’ve heard Cat reframe with me as the hero. Because she’s my best mate so I’m always a hero. And I don’t have to reframe a bloody thing for Cat – because to my mind she’s always been the smartest, funniest person in the room even if sometimes she doesn’t remember it that way and I have to remind her.

Hanging out in India this year

And when she decided to move to Scotland I was delighted for her. There is no doubt in my mind that it is the best possible choice for her.

But I must admit I’m finding it strange, and sad to see less of her. I’m terrible at speaking on the phone (barely do it even with my family), and I worry that we’ll lose that rhythm of comfortably walking together saying nothing, or talking with such urgency that we trip over ourselves and each other in our anxiety to get the words out. And if I’m finding this tough I can only imagine how tough it is for the teenagers out there who say they don’t have a single friend (and there’s lots of them).

So this month I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship. About its value to me and to everyone. And about how different my life would have been without it. And it has made me determined that every child no matter how different they are has the best possible chance to make real and lasting friendships.

How to get this done? I’ve no idea. Answers on a postcard folks?

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