Imagine this: you’re sitting with a friend, they need support, you graciously give it to them, and then bam! They refer to themselves as a burden, or say something along the lines of “you don’t have to take this on…I don’t want to put too much on your plate…but how are YOU … blah blah blah.” You know the drill.

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably been on both sides. You’ve been the one to hold a friend’s hands and say, “Let me be there for you.” You’ve also probably been the one to point the finger to them and say, “Enough about me, tell me about you!” And so the cycle goes: We want to be there to support our friends, and they want to be there to support us, yet when we become the focus of that support, we panic.

I’ve had this moment time and time again with one of my best friends, Clara, who always takes the time to remind me of a simple truth: No friendship, or any relationship (romantic, professional, familial, etc.), is ever 50/50. 

Our life moves in uncontrollable ebbs and flows that accordingly position us to be the supporter or the supported one in each of our relationships. This manifests in a swaying dynamic. There are moments where the relationship is 70/30, then it’s 30/70, then on a perfect spring day it’s 49/51. Suddenly, one person gets caught in the rain, and it’s 60/40. Quantifying who needs and who can give support is reductive and inaccurate. Just know it varies. And it should.

To think we can dictate these ebbs and flows with emotional dams to create a perfectly even dynamic is unfair to ourselves and the reality of our circumstances. Sometimes, we just need a little help. Other times, we can offer our help to others. 

Across the board we’re reluctant to receive this scoop of care: 73% of Americans don’t ask for help until they feel like they “absolutely need it.” Plus, we perceive asking for this help as a major favor, not something the people in our lives want to do for us. This wrongful underestimation only furthers our avoidance of saying we need support. We’re also just plain embarrassed. Even worse, when we’re on the other side, we don’t consider the embarrassment our friend, parent, or neighbor feels when reaching out. So when they don’t ask, we assume they might not need us. Wrong! 

Age and gender further cloud these dynamics. Men often shy away even more from asking for support, and older adults feel like they can’t ask for support without sacrificing their reputation as a capable person. So, regardless of our circumstances, we need to get comfy with the unevenness of it all, especially long-term.

There are some dynamics that will be lopsided for years, necessarily so. Famously, my parents changed my diapers, then drove me everywhere, and continued to provide my meals for years. As I get older, the dynamic has become a little less skewed (I go to the bathroom by myself and I can make a fairly edible meal), but it’s still uneven. Eventually, as they age, they’ll need more support from me in the same ways that I’ve seen them help out their parents. This is natural. 

At the same time, there are some unfair dynamics we all inevitably encounter that are wrongfully lopsided. One person always carries the emotional load, is never the subject of the “how are you’s,” and is the perpetual driver of the relationship. The majority of the dynamic falls on one party, leaving them with 70, 80, or the unimaginable 99. However hard they are to walk away from, we can easily label these relationships. Having these labels of “unfair” or “unhealthy” reminds us that these are usually one-off, incompatible dynamics, rather than the nature of all relationships.

Back to our typical, swaying relationships: the dance of moving the locus of support is awkward. It’s not a straightforward back-and-forth game of catch. Unexpected hard moments, months, and years are bound to happen. The people in your corner are there in the way you are for them. Accepting support during indefinite, unplanned, and difficult moments is what makes us good friends, partners, and kids. It also prepares us to return that support when the moment calls. By taking in the love and care, others might feel more comfortable reaching for us when they need that love and care back. 

In the last few months, I’ve had to challenge myself to navigate the uncomfortable dance of reaching for this care. I found myself overwhelmed with college ending and the loud crescendo of so many things I love hitting their peak, then ending. Whether it be the peak then conclusion of my classes, this newspaper, or in-person friendships, I needed to talk it out with my friends and family in verbose, winding conversations.

With almost every person I spoke to, I tried to turn the conversation to them immediately. “What about you!!?!?,” I would ask with a tense, off-putting tone. Almost always, they would smile, way more full of ease than me, and calmly say: “What about you.”