#Unsettled

The Fine Line Between a Good Friend and a Soft Landing Pad

Lately, I’ve been struggling.

I strive to be the kind of person who sees the absolute best in everybody. I genuinely believe that at our core, we all have good in us, and we all start with the best intentions. It’s a beautiful way to look at the world.

But sometimes, carrying that attitude feels like an open invitation for people to take advantage of you. I’ve noticed a pattern in my relationships, and lately, it seems to be happening a bit more.

I’ll have a friend who has been through the ringer with their personal life, and through it all, I am that support person. I’ve reached out, held the space, and stood tall as their pillar of strength when they couldn’t find their own. I offer advice, give support, and more importantly, I give my energy.

Only to find them not heed a single word.

I’m left feeling annoyed, frustrated, and completely exhausted. I feel like almost everyone has had this exact experience.

As I sit back and reflect, I realize this isn’t just about my friend. This is a pattern that has followed me my entire life—in grade school, in high school, and straight into my adult years. I find myself in a situation, I pour my heart and energy into holding someone up,  only to find them not making any changes. I get frustrated, and I swear to myself: “This is the last time. I’m done.”

But then another situation presents itself, and like clockwork, I’m back in the exact same spot.

I’ve had to take a long, hard look in the mirror lately.

I know that my patience and my ability to sit and truly listen are rare qualities. But I’m starting to see that this strength is constantly being misinterpreted. People see a safe place to land—which it is—and they mistake it for an open license to take advantage.

Which brings me to a very uncomfortable, “UnSettled” realization: If the pattern keeps repeating, maybe I’m the enabler. Maybe I’m the problem.

It begs the question: What is the actual difference between being a good friend and being an enabler?

A good friend stands in the storm with you, hands you an umbrella, and points you toward solid ground. But they expect you to walk. An enabler is the one who carries you through the mud on their own back, draining their own battery to keep yours running while you refuse to take a single step.

Do the people we love actually know the difference? Or do they simply mistake our deep empathy for an open tap they can use to siphon off our peace whenever their own lives get chaotic?

I don’t do fake comfort. If you come to me, you know you’re getting direct, unfiltered truth. I believe in tough love. I believe with every fiber of my being that it is up to you to fix your own problems and stop waiting for someone to sweep in on a white horse to rescue you.

You are entirely capable of rescuing yourself. It’s not a matter of luck; it’s a matter of self-discipline.

That was a non-negotiable in my house growing up. My parents harped on self-discipline constantly, and it’s a value I have fought to instill in my own children. But I also try to balance that grit with kindness.

So, when people come to me in a crisis, I don’t just hold their hand and whisper that it’s going to be okay. I will do that for a moment—because we all need to be held—but then? I lay out the blueprint. I give you a practical, step-by-step plan to set you up for success.

And that’s where the exhaustion sets in.

There is nothing more draining than having someone look you in the eye, ask for your hard-earned advice, watch you pour your time and energy into helping them build a plan… and then watch them completely ignore it.

They walk right back into the fire. The pattern repeats. And you’re left holding the empty bucket.

My intuition is sharp. I can usually see exactly how a situation is going to end before the first domino even falls. But I am realizing the hard, heavy truth of the old cliché: I can lead the horse to water, but I cannot make it drink.

So I ask you, my tribe— When do we stop being the soft landing pad that actually prevents them from hitting the bottom they need to hit in order to change? Where do you draw the line between showing up as a loyal friend and letting someone completely suck up your emotional currency?

Maybe the hardest lesson is learning that letting go isn’t an act of abandonment. Sometimes, it’s the only real act of love we have left.