How many times have you looked at your friend’s number on your phone, your thumb hovering over the dial button…then felt you couldn’t disturb them and locked the screen? Years ago, when my mum had to spend a couple of weeks in the hospital, I found myself doing just that. I’ve done it more times than I can remember. It’s easy to feel like the weight and responsibility of being there for someone when it’s really dark is reserved for partners, not friends. Society, after all, places more emotional emphasis on romance than friendship. It doesn’t always feel appropriate to call a friend and ask them to come over because you can’t bear to go home to an empty house, or face a diagnosis, or because you simply need to cry with someone. I remember all those years ago, standing in the dark under a billboard with my phone in hand, feeling as though it wasn’t fair to reach out to a friend, because friends don’t sign up to this kind of thing. Looking back, I was so wrong.
The Room Next Door recently hit big screens and what struck me when I went to see it was the gravity of what we can ask of our friends, how we do it, and how intimate platonic relationships can become in times of need. In the film, Tilda Swinton’s character, Martha, who is dying of cancer, makes the biggest possible request of another person, and it’s her friend Ingrid (Julianne Moore) who receives this request — there is no romantic partner to lean on. The film looks at how their friendship grows and is challenged in equal measure by Martha’s request and Ingrid’s desire to help. I left the screening feeling as though we should all be a bit braver within our friendships and ask for help when we need it — even if we feel the ask is big.
Refinery29 spoke to women about the times their friends rose to the occasion and didn’t make them feel burdensome. Often it’s our friends who understand us best and know what we need when the time comes. I’ve grown to learn this in the last couple of years, and if I could go back to that night when my mum was first staying in hospital, I’d have reached out to my friend. Now, when problems arrive that I can’t solve alone, I press the dial button. Support is always there.
*Some names have been changed to protect anonymity
I am very lucky to have a wonderful husband but I have leaned hard on my friends this year in a way I haven’t on my husband.
I have the BRCA2 gene mutation, which means my risk of getting breast and/or ovarian cancer is markedly increased. My mum died of cancer young, my granny died at a young age, and aunts too. I decided to undergo risk-reducing surgery and get a full mastectomy.
Even though I have always anticipated I would do this, I still had a full breakdown at Christmas about it. For the first time ever, I had panic attacks that lasted days. I vomited all over the kitchen floor, took myself to bed, wept and wouldn’t eat. I ruined Christmas for everybody, unfortunately. My partner was so good but bless him, he didn’t know what to do at this stage.
One of my best friends had a similar experience when she was undergoing a health procedure. I contacted her on Boxing Day and she came right round the next day and she sat with me and let me cry and talked me down. She spoke to me about my feelings and related it to her own experiences. I am not exaggerating when I say she saved my life because she kept me sane for the whole of Christmas. I would voice-note her or text her, asking for validation, and she would send it. She took me on walks around the block. Her husband also took my husband out and was able to assure him that eventually I would be okay because they as a couple had experienced something similar.
When the operation came round she was making me food, sharing books for my sick bed, carrying my drains upstairs with me when I needed the toilet. I spoke to her about my body image, given the nature of the operation. She was my rock.
I was in my third year at university and the situation in my house-share was horrendous. It reached a point where I had to get out of there because my mental health was suffering. One of my university friends came and helped me take all of my stuff around to her house to store over the Christmas holidays while I thought of what to do next. When I came back in January, I ended up going back to her house and stayed for six weeks. We shared her room and I brought in a camp bed.
She helped me go to the estate agent on a daily basis so I could get out of that housing contract, though my old housemates didn’t make it easy for me and I had to put up a lot of money. Eventually I got out and was able to move into emergency accommodation offered by the university.
My friend refused to take any money from me for food or bills in the time I stayed with her. She said the situation wasn’t my fault and I shouldn’t have to pay for it. She helped me then move into my new accommodation. I was so fortunate this friend allowed me to share her room and to support me through that awful time. It was also at a time when I felt there wasn’t anyone else to turn to.
My best friend, Laura, has been a central part of my world since we met at primary school in the mid ’80s. She was a big part of my family and I hers, she knew and loved my parents and we always included each other in our day-to-day life as well as holidays and family parties.
I met my now husband in 2002 but when my father suddenly died in 2005, the only person I wanted was my best friend. My then fiancé had only met my dad a handful of times and they didn’t yet have a relationship so the day after my dad died, when my fiancé asked if I wanted him to take the day off work, I said, “Please just take me to Laura’s.”
I knew that the tears that she shed when she saw me were for the loss of my dad and how that affected her, rather than just because she felt sorry for me. I adore my husband but at that time I needed to grieve with someone and I knew that my amazing friend would just sit in the hole with me, and that is exactly what she did.
She shared my sadness, she didn’t try to fix it, she held me physically and emotionally, she let me talk. So many people don’t know how to talk about sudden loss and want to move on from it. She gave me her time, even though she has three daughters and a busy life. I knew I’d feel safe with her. I feel so exceptionally lucky that I have a friend who really is my safe place, and I know she feels the same about me. Even though Laura has moved to Ireland, our friendship is as strong as ever. When there is a crisis in the future, we will be straight on a plane to be with each other.
Nearly five years ago my mother had a debilitating stroke and although my partner was there, I just couldn’t speak to him about most of my worries. I turned to my friends for support. This all happened two months before the pandemic and as the world began to shut down. Staying home alone became my new norm; my partner was a key worker [during the pandemic] and was out every day so isolation, worry and despair really kicked in as I tried to navigate hospitals and my mother’s care from afar. I wasn’t allowed to see her as she was moved to a care facility, and she was unable to speak or walk after her stroke.
My friends and I would talk for hours as many of us either lived alone or spent a lot of time on our own. We would cook together virtually, play games (who remembers Clubhouse?) and just spend hours supporting each other. It deepened our connections. During a time when all of our lives felt so uncertain, I knew that in my lowest moments, I could lean on my friends entirely.
My best friend picked me up when my last relationship ended. I was at his flat, stood outside with my belongings, and she was just there. She always shows up no matter what. I was her maid of honour that year and she asked me how I managed going through a breakup while helping with her wedding, but honestly she gave me hope. She’s had a baby since and she’s still incredible with being a huge support to me. Female friendships should really be celebrated.
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