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Friendship: a Reason, a Season or Life

posted 19th September 2010    Written by: Lindsey    CATEGORY: Lindsey, What I've Learned

I grew up in a town of about 5,000 people, so I knew the same kids my whole life. More than half the cherubic faces in my preschool class photo were in my graduating class. Thanks to a combination of Facebook and my being home for the summer, I know all about what each of these people are doing with their lives, for the most part. We’re life friends by default.

When I left for college it was this huge rush of people and friendships. Some lasting, some not. And more and more people have come into my life in my travels. Lifetime friendships, and temporary friendships. The common bond of elementary school no longer exists.

It seems like it’d be easier, to always have friends that you’ll know forever. But there are a lot of people in this world, and it’s just impossible to consider everyone a lifelong friend.

There is that saying: People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or life. I think that is such a lovely way to say “Hey, you know, I’ve loved our time together, but we are two individual people, and we must move on our own individual paths.” I like to have this feeling of okayness.

A Reason

We are all teachers, even if we don’t assume the title. I learn valuable lessons from the people in my life, every day. I connect with people easily, I am open and friendly and make fast friends with people of all ages and backgrounds. (My best friends in Tahoe were a 75 year old man and a 46 year old woman.)

These fast friendships, while not always lasting, are always reflected upon with pleasure. There was a lesson in that friendship, brief as it may have been. Maybe the end of the relationship came about because of a move or a disagreement or simply a lack of time.

But I am a strong believer in finding purpose in our choices. The choice to meet this friend, and share certain experiences or conversations. The choice to end the friendship, for whatever reason. These choices help me understand myself. And hopefully, the effect was mutual.

A Season

Friendships grow and friendships fade. Sometimes, people walk out of my life loudly, or sometimes it’s a gradual fade out. It’s sad, to know that this person who I’ve shared a special bond with is gone. And strange to realize that our friendship was, indeed, a season in my life.

Seasons change. Life is change. I think it’s incredibly healthy to embrace this change and love everything that happened and that was learned. But also love that you’ve changed and are moving on.

Seasonal friendships are reflections of personal growth.

Or, Life

Lifetime friends aren’t always around, but there have been so many reasons and seasons we’ve shared together I know that they’ll be around for life, no matter where I am in the world.

Even in this strange period of life, where I’m going back on my words (“yep, I am definitely moving to {awesome city where friend lives} soon” then living in not that city but living a nomadic hermit life, completely out of touch of so many people), my life friends are always there to support me.

The internet has made these lifetime friendships easier than ever. But nothing substitutes for the real thing. In my QLC, where I am absolutely confused about everything, it helps so much to have these friends that know me and all my quirks and fears and complexes. We’ve taught each other lessons. Built bonds that last through secluded summers and flirty falls and wayfaring winters and silly springs.

It still seems weird to me, after being gone for so long, that I have these lifetime friends. Even if I abandon them, I’m still Lindsey. And they still love me, and I them.

We’re all connected

Human interactions happen all the time. With the right perspective, you can get the most out of them. I look for reasons in all relationships. Like, right now, you’re here, and you’re reading me as I spill my guts on the internet. Our relationship is small, but you reading, that makes me feel really connected, and hopefully there is something you get out of this.

Then, maybe we’ll start emailing. Or meet in real life. And go to music festivals and hula hoop. Or bake cookies and ride bikes. But I’ll move to Argentina. And you’ll fly to the moon. And the season will end.

But maybe when I get back from the southern hemisphere and you get back from outer space, we’ll realize that we should still be friends. I teach you Spanish. You teach me about moon rocks.

Who knows? All I know, is that my friends are awesome. All of ‘em.

{photo credit : pareeerica}

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Happy Wives and Stay At Home Moms Still Get Lonely

posted 27th August 2010    Written by: Alisha    CATEGORY: Alisha, Family, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, What I've Learned

One day we took my husband to work and headed to the little petting zoo in the next town over. The sun was shining. It was warm–warm for March in Chicago: 53 degrees according to the car. My son was happily speaking his toddler-speak…something about planes, sky, and going to the “zoom.” I had all of this wonderful light, bright, happy, great stuff going on, and yet. . . . And yet I was so overwhelmed; drowning in sorrow, loneliness. I almost started crying.

That morning I just felt so alone. There was no one to share my happiness with that day. No one to share that school-girl giddiness. No one to call up and meet for coffee and a quick chat in the backyard. I missed my old home. I missed my friends. I missed the tall oaks–how they lined the streets and shaded you from the mid-day sun. And the broken-up city sidewalks with their names set in blue and white mosaic tiles at each intersection. I missed the strawberry smoothies and melt-in-your-mouth croissants from the coffee shop down the road. I missed the old craftsman windows and Tudor peaks, the sirens from the police station on 63rd, and the neighborhood market with its fresh flowers and juicy scallops.

I am used to being alone.  After all, I am an INFJ—emphasis on the “I”.  My family moved around a lot when I was young (it is difficult to cultivate deep friendships when you move every 1-3 years).  Before children, my Saturdays were spent walking down to the coffee shop, reading best-sellers, watching movies in bed, and running on the trails— alone.

There are few whom I call friends; I consider most to be acquaintances.  And over the past few years I’ve become quite stingy with my friendship, extending it only to those whom I deem worthy.  (Wow. I hope that doesn’t sound like I think my ish don’t stink.  I just am more careful about in whom I invest my time and energy.)  Yet, lately I find myself craving connection on a level that I never have before.

I was not prepared for this loneliness thing.  When I envisioned my life as a stay-at-home mom I saw myself carting the kids to and from playgroups and playdates, chatting it up on the park bench while the children slid down the slides.  There is some of that, but not nearly enough.  It turns out that as I have gotten older, become a wife and a parent, making friends has not been so easy.  Family schedules don’t always mesh.  Children do not always play nicely.  Parenting philosophies differ.

I thought that I could fill the void by connecting with my tribes online.  Don’t get me wrong—the places and spaces I found on the internet are full of inspiring individuals and communities.  They are uplifting, supportive, encouraging and all around awesome!  However, they are no replacement for real human, face-to-face interaction.  Virtual hugs do not compare to the warm embrace of a kind soul.  I prefer “LOL”s to be literal: deep hearty laughs exchanged over a glass of wine and a medium pepperoni pizza. We humans are not made to be alone.  I need to go find my people.

photo credit

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