Here's the thing: I won't help you move, but I won't shame you for asking, and I'll show up with food I made once all your stuff is inside your house so you don't have to survive on takeout until your whole kitchen is unpacked. (I'll also refer you to people I know who will help you move, and get you helpful tips from folks I know who were professional movers before chronic illness made that not a viable career anymore.)

I won't stay up all night with you on the phone the night before I have to work, but you should know that if we're friends, you never ever have to worry about texting me "too much" about anything. I will read and respond to all of your messages enthusiastically if you're happy and empathetically if you're sad, as soon as I can. I will offer you a choice between empathetic listening, chattering distraction, or advice. I can deliver on any three of those.

If you introduce your deepest traumas to me the first time we meet, or if they are all we ever talk about, then we're gonna need to have a conversation about boundaries, but I will still like you and reassure you as best I can that those events do not define you and are not your fault.

I will not babysit your infant child - you really don't want me to do that anyway, I'm no good with babies - but I will get you a carefully curated selection of picture books for them every birthday and holiday. I will pick up formula from the store near me because the stores near you are out. If you or your partner gave birth, you bet I'm showing up with food and those pads with witch hazel on them to keep in your freezer.

There's nuance to be had here in this conversation. Part of building a community is realizing that nobody can do everything - that different friends are going to serve different roles in your life, and that while not everybody can show up for everything all the time, you'll be surprised how many people will show up for you if you let them decide how they can and will do it.