I could probably spend a lifetime trying to write down everything I think and feel about friendships. Today, I’ll try to keep it to 1000 words.
I often forget how lucky I am in this area of life. Rather – I write off having good adult friendships as a testimony to the time and effort they take to maintain (because all relationships take work!) instead of simple luck.
But it’s true. I am lucky to be writing this from the corner of the bedroom I’ve lived in for nearly four years, in an apartment I share with one of my best friends. I feel lucky that another close friend lives just down the block. Lucky to have friends who I get to see on a regular basis, lucky to have friends who will pick up without hesitation if I call.
If I’m honest with myself, there are days I wake up and feel a deep, deep desire to run away from all of it. I imagine what it could be like – to go to a place where no one knows who I am, what I do, where I’m from, why I’m here. I close my eyes and try to forget how skintight my current life feels. I wonder what it would be like to start over, even if just for a day.
The desire comes and goes so quickly that if I’m not tuned into it, I’ll miss it completely. More of an unsuspecting blink and less of an impending wave. It’s gotten easier to expect it over the years: anytime my days start to feel a little too stagnant, my conversations a little too boring, my social life a little too claustrophobic. And springtime is imminent – who isn’t ready for something new?
Sometimes I’ll let my mind to entertain the idea. What would it be like to escape the only life I know? I’ll temporarily wander down this path, exploring this illusion that a life lived alone is safer – easier than one that involves or depends on others. Pretending, even if just for a split second, that a brand new life could be a lasting solution to temporary boredom or frustrations in my current one.
Other times, I find myself intellectualizing the feeling. Distilling it down. Recognizing how this desire to run away comes from some embedded tendency toward avoidance – some hidden fear that relying on anyone but my own self would be a surefire path to disappointment.
Ah. The temptation of starting over again. What would it feel like to leave it all behind?
It would feel lonely.
Back in high school, I thought I could leave without consequence (and in some ways, I could). I was ready to leave small-town Iowa for literally anywhere else. Tired of myself at the ripe age of 17 and sick of sweet simplicity. I told myself staying was not an option. So I left for college to build a new life in Seattle. And then I left Seattle to build another new life in New York.
But the older I get, the more embedded I become in my life and my relationships. The harder it is for big decisions to leave only an isolated impact. The more I coax myself out of seeking out hiding places, the less I feel this desire to leave the warmth of being in the light.
And the more I understand this truth to my core: life is better – best – when shared with the right people.
Of course, finding the right people isn’t easy. Like most serendipitous and beautiful things in life, I don’t believe there’s a real formula for it. When asked to explain my philosophy of friendships, I’ll first insist that I’ve never been a “friend group” person. That I prefer my individual friendships – possibly because I prefer the security of independence from a group over the security of belonging to one. That I believe in being intentional about who you commit your time and energy to.
I’ll continue on to explain how those are the people you want in your life. The friends who commit to growing together – next to you and with you and in spite of difficult things. Friendships that can be sustained without needing the context or support of others. Friends that can forgive a misunderstanding, and friends that learn to adjust when life forces a new, unexpected rhythm.
The common thread is a mutual, oft unspoken promise: we will make time and space for each other in our lives. We will share our thoughts and emotions unfiltered, we’re committed to remembering the important things, excited to celebrate and commiserate together.
And the moment I remember the people I have in my life, my feet find the ground. Flight mode switches off. The whispers of no one is depending on you here fade away.
Because here’s another honest truth: it’s simultaneously freeing and daunting, this chapter of adulthood I find myself in today. Single, financially independent, with no partner in sight. In many ways, no one depends on me more than I depend on myself. I’m supposed to move through life like I know what I’m doing, and I’m also supposed to know my limitations when I don’t have a clue.
Since I don’t want to do it all on my own, I’m more than happy to put in the work to keep the right people around me. The right people I can lean on when things feel a little too heavy for just one to carry.
So I admit, I’m being a little selfish in this desire to escape. Even putting these thoughts into written words makes me feel like a bad friend.
But I want it all – don’t you?
I want the freedom to run away from my responsibilities for a little while and the privilege of coming back to a home that still knows me like I never left. I want conversations where I don’t have to explain anything about myself and I want to meet strangers who don’t know a damn thing. I want to text someone out of the blue just to see how they’re doing and I want to ignore every notification that dares to disrupt my ignorance.
But I can’t deny – I’m lucky. I’m not going through life completely on my own. I don’t have to want friendships that move with me like a second skin. I don’t have to want a life full of people and love and experiences because I did want it – I built it – and now I have it. I have a real and secure place for myself.
A home.
So who could be luckier than I? To be one person amongst 8 billion, and somehow find others who feel the same inexplicable emotions that I do. To not want, but have people who remind me who I am when I start to forget myself. Friendship in its purest form. Friends who will pick up bagels and coffee just to come over and sit on my couch on a slow Sunday morning. Here – it’s easy to sit in silence, easy to talk for hours, easy to just be.
All my friends are home, and so am I.
i’ll pick up wine on my way over
just saw this and thought of you
see you soon
the lights are all on
and all my friends are home
Listening to not strong enough - boygenius…on repeat
Watching Variety’s Actors on Actors series
Read How Can I Disappear?, which helped me finish this lingering draft
Dreaming about 7pm sunsets that start today!
I thought this post felt familiar. :) Happy my chaotic feelings could help you sort yours. Miss you!