Julie Crawshay on Learning to Lean on Friends
I have always been the person who helps others. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you I am far more comfortable giving support than receiving it. Then Glioblastoma arrived in our home, and I had to learn a lesson I had avoided my whole life. I had to let my friends carry some of the weight.
I am Julie Crawshay, and as a caregiver in Sydney I can honestly say that learning to lean on friends has been one of the hardest and most healing parts of this journey.
Why Accepting Help Felt So Hard
At first I said no to everything. I did not want to be a burden. I told myself I could manage, that others had their own lives, that asking for help meant I was failing somehow. Looking back, I see how much that pride cost me.
The truth is that people wanted to help. When I kept refusing, I was not protecting my friends. I was shutting them out of a season where they longed to stand beside me. Once I understood that, saying yes became a gift I gave both of us.
How Friends Show Up
My friends have shown me that support rarely looks grand. It is usually small, steady, and deeply practical.
- A meal left on the doorstep with no need to talk.
- A lift to an appointment when I was too tired to drive.
- A message that simply says, thinking of you today.
- An afternoon where someone sat with Nic so I could rest.
None of these things cured Glioblastoma, but every one of them reminded me I was not alone. Caregivers so often disappear into the caring, and good friends are the ones who keep reaching for you in the fog.
I have also learned to be specific. When people say let me know if you need anything, I used to wave it away. Now I try to name one real thing, because a clear request is far easier to answer than a vague offer. Friends want a way in, and honesty gives them one.
There have been friendships that faded too. Some people cannot stay close to something this hard, and I have made peace with that. In their place, other friends stepped forward, and a few near strangers became lifelines. Sydney has surprised me with its kindness.
I have also learned to let friends see me on my worst days, not only my composed ones. For a long time I saved my tears for when I was alone, wanting to appear strong. But the moment I let a close friend sit with me while I fell apart, our friendship deepened in a way that carries me still. Being witnessed in the hard moments is its own kind of relief.
If you are caring for someone you love, please do not do it alone. Let someone hold the door for a while. Leaning on friends did not make me weak. It made me human, and it reminded me that love flows in every direction, even now.
By Julie Crawshay, Sydney