Why Do I Feel Tired After Meeting an Old Friend?

I sometimes wonder—do friendships between women last a long time in other cultures?

In Japan, it can be surprisingly difficult.

Today, I’d like to share a small story about that.

Have you ever felt this way about a long-time friend?

“I don’t dislike them, but I feel exhausted after meeting them.”

Recently, I had a chance to go on a short trip with a friend I’ve known for many years.

I was really looking forward to it, and while we were together, I did have a good time.

But on the way home, I found myself thinking…

“…I’m so tired.”

No, really. I was exhausted.

It was supposed to be fun.

And yet, I felt completely drained.

So I started to think about why.

And then I realized—

I barely spoke at all.

During the drive, during meals, during sightseeing—
she was talking the whole time—like, the whole time.

About her husband, her children, her work, her parents.

There was a brief moment when I thought,
“Maybe I can talk now.”

But as soon as I started—

“Oh yeah, and then, you know—” (and it never stopped)

Wait… seriously?

Wasn’t it my turn just now?

At that moment, I realized something.

This didn’t feel like a conversation.

It felt more like a one-person show—and I was just the audience.

I still believe that a conversation should be a kind of back-and-forth.

When one person speaks, the other listens—and then they switch.

At least, if the other person seems like they want to talk, I think we should make space for them.

Maybe that’s just how I see it, but that balance feels important to me.

That’s when I started to think—

Conversation is like making mochi.

Do you know what “mochitsuki” is?

It’s a traditional Japanese way of making mochi, a soft rice cake made from steamed rice.

It might be easier to understand if you watch a short video.

In mochitsuki, one person pounds the rice with a wooden hammer called a “kine,” while the other quickly puts their hands into a mortar called an “usu” to turn the rice.

It’s a cooperative process between two people, and together they turn rice into mochi.

Ichigo Daifuku

The key to mochitsuki is timing.

Both people need to sense each other’s movements and match their rhythm.

And I realized that conversations between people are very similar.

You think about the other person, you wait for the right moment, and you respond.

If only one person keeps working non-stop, you won’t get good mochi.

But in our case…

It felt like she was pounding the mochi at full speed—

over and over and over again.

And I couldn’t even put my hands in—there was no chance.

She just kept pounding, non-stop.

There was no space for me at all.

No wonder I was tired.

It’s not that I started to dislike her.

I just felt that our rhythm no longer matched.

Maybe it used to.

Maybe back in our school days, we could talk just fine like that.

But now… I just can’t keep up.

It’s exhausting.

At the same time, I also started to wonder if there might be a reason for it.

She has a busy job, and from what I know, she spends most of her time listening to others.

So maybe, when she finally meets a friend on her day off, she just wants to be the one who talks.

And after finishing raising her children, she might have entered a stage of life where she feels more comfortable speaking freely.

I’m not sure—but it felt like that could be part of it.

As we grow older, our lives naturally change.

Our roles, our priorities, and the environments we are in all shift over time.

Because of that, the way we relate to each other changes too.

Even in long friendships, things are not always the same.

Relationships change over time.

It’s a little sad, but maybe that’s just part of life.

So when you feel like,

“Why does this person make me so tired?”

It’s not something strange.

It just means your rhythms are different now.

You don’t have to force yourself to match.

It’s okay to take some distance.

It’s okay to meet less often.

People often hope for relationships that never change.

But just as people themselves change, relationships change too.

Still, friends who have known you for a long time are truly precious.

They are something you don’t want to lose.

That’s why I want to keep those relationships—
not by forcing them to stay the same,
but by allowing them to change in a way that still lets them continue.

That’s what I was thinking on my way home.

But for now—
I think I’ll take a break from that mochi-pounding rhythm.

Maybe for a while.