Thinking about F.R.I.E.N.D.S: The Reunion made me feel depressed
The show Friends was not a thoroughly unrealistic depiction of my youth. In fact, I used to share a flat with 3 boys and 2 other girls. And although the six of us did not spend each of our waking moment in a coffee shop together, some of us might, or might not, have been romantically involved at some point.
The night the Reunion episode came out I rushed to get an HBO subscription. I played the first few seconds, right to where the cast goes into the perfectly-preserved set, and I hit pause. I was overcome with a great sense of sadness. I had been feeling gloomy for a few days but the dread that came from watching it was just too great. Why? I wasn’t quite sure why. For a while I’ve stopped attributing causes to feeling depressed. Funny how just a few years back I was so obsessed with finding out the Why. Combing through every details of my life. Where did it go wrong? How could it possibly go wrong? Except life is a series of connected things, and you might never really able to solve the math.
Maybe it’s just life, maybe it’s my hormone, maybe I’m not taking good care of myself, maybe I’m not exercising enough. There are just too many maybes. But maybe, just maybe, Friends Reunion made me feel a bit depressed because it reminded me of the friendships I’ve left in the past. A season that has ended, where a sequel is not due.
I don’t think I’ve met many people that have intentionally cut friends off their lives. I don’t think I, myself, have said to people, “I think it’s best that we don’t talk anymore.” Unless they’re extremely unhealthy for us we probably expect our friends to be in our lives for a while. And that’s exactly what makes an end to friendships so sad.
Because most of the time, you have nothing against them, and they have nothing against you.
You just grow up, and start walking in the different paths of lives you feel called to.
That’s also probably why many people have said a scripted reunion won’t work for the show Friends. Because there’s no more story to tell. Life has gotten in the way. 10, 20 years after the apartment was emptied, unlike the set that remains untouched, the cracks in each of the characters’ lives have been filled with. There is no more space for each other. And that can be super sad, but that is okay.
There is nothing embarrassing about this. It does not have to take a drama, or a massive fall out for us to no longer be close with someone. I’m never going to be caught saying “I’m not friends with them anymore”, it’s more like “They won’t be the first one I call.” But the point is, in most cases and certainly in many of my past friendships, neither of us is a bad person. And that’s also what makes a parted friendship hard to comprehend.
Because we are not used to stories where there were no villain. And we are certainly not used to losses without graves.
Yet, isn’t this the nature of living things — growing, developing, evolving? And if you’re not moving towards the same trajectory, it’s ok to let things go. It is healthy to let things go. Because only then, you get to make space for the new. My comfort found in having an alone time in the kitchen, baking, came from a friend who used to visit with a cake at least once a week. She taught me that in a world where nothing is certain, we can take consolation in knowing that sugar caramelise and eggs thicken. We now live in different continents; I no longer dream of putting on an apron after work, and instead look forward to my quiet time running in the park as the afternoon closes. It’s probably healthier that way too. There is no shade here. Just wanted to make sure I was clear on that.
Just like the show Friends is, our friendship was beautiful for that season — maybe that season lasted for a year or two, or two hundred and thirty six episodes long. But it was enough for that timespan.
And so, there’s nothing groundbreaking about this writing — no new ideas, no revolutionary thought. Mostly writing this helps me make sense of why I feel so uneasy about the end of friendships. For a while I felt petty, and bitter. For longer than I should, I lived in paralysis — Isn’t it depressing to think that people are meant to be in and out of our lives, no matter how big of a purpose they serve at a particular string of moments?
I guess not really when you finally learn about acceptance. When you learn not to hold things too tightly. When you’re present and grateful for each moment. When you breathe in every laughter you get to share in that cramped flat, and every cup of tea you get to have in your favourite teahouse together, and every lesson they instil in you, that you get to carry in order to become who you are.
In the end I never watched the Reunion. But I realised I don’t need a reunion to get the closure I needed for the ending of friendships—that no matter how long or short that friendship was, it was beautiful and it was enough for what it was.
