If you haven’t read
the rest of this series but are interested in doing so, just click on the loneliness
tag at the end of this piece.
I had a lot of fun in college. I made several good friends
and scads & scads of acquaintances. It was the first time in my life when I
truly felt accepted for who I was. Once I made my way into the adult, working
world, however, it quickly became apparent that college had been a lovely
microcosm that bore little resemblance to what life is actually like.
Upon graduation, I joined
AmeriCorps.
Having decided at some point during my senior year of college (rather arbitrarily) that I
wanted to live in Portland, Oregon, I would have preferred a position there.
However, positions in the Pacific Northwest were very in-demand and
difficult to land, especially for a first year volunteer (AmeriCorps is a
one-year commitment with a second-year option). I therefore settled for a
position in rural Minnesota in my preferred area of interest, adult literacy.
I had a difficult time in Minnesota. The state was
beautiful. The people I worked with were lovely. The work was challenging.
However, I was a 22-year-old in rural Minnesota, sixty miles from the Twin
Cities, and very poor. There weren’t a lot of people my age around. I was also
deep in the throes of my second bout of anorexia. It was difficult to find
interesting things to do. I met some really great people while I was there,
people I still consider friends, but the truth is that I felt deeply isolated.
By the end of my year there, I was very depressed. My
anorexia was starting to get out of control, so I was also scared. In spite of
all of this, I signed up for a second year of AmeriCorps and managed to land a
position in Portland, working in children’s literacy.
I arrived in Portland with high hopes. Even so, Portland and
I got off to a rough start. I was still very poor, and living pretty far
outside of the “happening” parts of town. Although I got into therapy for my
depression and anorexia immediately, I continued to struggle. I’d felt so
isolated in Minnesota that I was starved for human affection. I was giving off
serious “needy” vibes. I knew it at the time but had little control over it.
My interactions with potential friends always left me
dissatisfied. I felt like people didn’t like me. They probably didn’t. No one
likes needy people. The more I was rejected, the more needy I became. It was a
terrible cycle. It didn’t help that this was before the Internet really got
popular. I had no idea how to meet
people, especially people who had the same interests as me. I saw people around
me – people in the same AmeriCorps program – flourishing and it was so frustrating to me that I couldn’t
figure out how to do the same.
For a while, I contemplated leaving. A good friend from
college had moved to nearby Seattle. I thought it might be easier to build a
life in a city where I already had a friend. However, I always preferred the
city of Portland itself to the city of Seattle. So I stayed. And eventually, it
worked out. It took a few years, the help of my then-boyfriend, and a job
change, but it worked out. Later, after people really figured out how useful
the Internet is, and groups like Meet Up and Meet In started, it got easy to
meet people.
In the end, I lived in Portland for 10 years and I made a
lot of wonderful friends while I was there. It wasn’t always easy though. I had
a couple of broken friendships, a haunting reminder of what I’d been through as
a child. One of those friendships ended by my choice. The other did not.
The one that didn’t was very painful for me. It’s something I still feel bad
about to this day, seven years later.
I had grown up a lot in college. I grew up even more in
Portland, and matured in ways I never could have expected. I re-learned two
very valuable lessons about friendship, lessons I'd forgotten after college:
1. Liking yourself is more important than other people liking you. Validation from yourself is the only kind that matters.
2. You don’t have to be friends with everyone who wants to
be friends with you. Pick your friends wisely.
I also learned a third lesson that I continue to find
difficult to accept:
3. Very few relationships in your life – romantic or
friendly – are meant to last forever.
I left Portland, a city I had grown to love deeply, to
follow my newly-minted husband to Hawaii. If you’ve been following my blog,
you’ll know that we’ve moved around a lot since then. In fact, there have been
four major and two minor moves in about 5.5 years. It’s been exhausting
physically, emotionally, and mentally. It’s also made it very difficult not
only to maintain the friendships I already had, but also to build new ones.
I rarely have difficulty with meeting people anymore. As I
said, the Internet has made that infinitely easier. Also, I think I’ve become a
lot more fun to be around. I’m a lot happier than I used to be, and a lot less
serious as well. I joke around a lot. Although I still feel lonely, I rarely
feel needy. People, generally, seem to like me. However, although I easily meet
and get along with lots of people, I seem to have trouble sealing the deal, so
to speak. I have a hard time making the close friendships that I crave.
I think that our transient lifestyle in recent years has a
lot to do with this. Unless you’re spending tons of time with a person, you’re
not going to build a really deep connection in just a year or two. Some of it
is a problem within me, though. Part of me will always be that person who once scared
away potential friends. I’m overly conscious of appearing needy or too eager to
connect. I tend to be passive when forming friendships, to let the other person make the overt gestures. Because of this, I probably give off a vibe that I’m not as interested
in most friendships as I actually am.
Even when I do make what I think are deep connections, I
find that, as soon as I move away, they begin to diminish. This was true even
of several of the close, long-term friendships I shared in Portland. The truth
is that friendships are difficult to maintain over distance. Most people aren’t
willing to put in the effort. I don’t think that it’s even a conscious thing.
You move, and your friends miss you and you miss them, but eventually, new
people are met, new friends are made. You’re still friends, but you’re not as
close as you used to be.
Frankly, this has been very disappointing for me. I suppose
I’ve been naïve. I keep thinking that my friendships are going to be like ones
in movies or books, true blue till the end, but it’s not reality. I think that
lesson #3 above has been the toughest lesson of all, but life continues to
prove it true over and over again.
A fourth lesson has come out of all this moving around. I’ve
learned how to be alone without feeling lonely. Before, I kept loneliness at
bay by always being busy. There was even a long stretch in Portland where I had to
build alone time into my schedule. These last few years, I’ve gotten
comfortable with being by myself. I’ve gotten comfortable with myself. It’s nice. It feels healthier.
Even so, I still go through periods of loneliness. It’s not
a longing for interaction; it’s the same longing I’ve always had: deep
connections, true blue friends. Sometimes I wonder if I’m searching for
something that’s not even possible. Maybe I’ve been fooled by the social
narrative. Maybe no one has the kind of friendships I’m looking for. Somehow, I’m
not convinced. I think what I want is out there.
I will continue to look. I will continue to work on myself and my hang-ups. I'll probably also continue to feel frustration, but it's a price I'm willing to pay. My hope is that now we're settled for good (in theory), I'll be able to start building strong friendships. The adventure that is life marches on. Most of the time, it feels like I'm just along for the ride.