Thank you for such openness. It hits me, as well, having retired from teaching high school where there was no lack of stimulation, even if that time was spent with people decades younger who cannot replace peers. Peer connection for me, except with my colleagues, was sacrificed in those years from exhaustion and moving an hour away from my original tribe. And getting divorced in my mid-forties. After building a "dream house" in the country. All that you describe, though, used to be the traditional role of a faith community, whatever faith you shared. For me, it was a church experience that naturally provided all of this. Yet in the last three decades, as we all have witnessed, those needs for community were replaced in many circles with political stances. That is what drove me away from that long held place of love and fellowship. I've tried to reckon with all of this in a memoir, just the idea of change and loss, yet the hopefulness of new relationships. I really appreciate the comments of hope here, and how we need to be purposeful and open, especially in these potentially disorienting years of retirement, not to mention the assuredly fractious coming four years.
Purposeful and open, yes, indeed. Intentional in naming what we seek and taking small steps to find it. I envy those with strong faith communities for whom it is a true place of love and solace. I am still open to finding a faith community that might work for me in this way, but so far have not found one that resonates on the multiple levels I need. Best of luck on your memoir!
Oh, how I love this and relate wholeheartedly! I've been feeling these same feelings and thinking the same thoughts. Close friendship is the biggest gift you can give another person. We need to prioritize it more.
When my sons were 16 and 14, and lovingly, appropriately pulling away from me and inhabiting their own social circles, I came to the stark realization that I had exactly zero close friends. Nobody to have a beer with, or watch the big game, or see the latest violent epic. What was worse, my friend-making skills had atrophied to the point where I couldn’t make the phone call, or extend the invite. I was locked into a very lonely world. Out of desperation I began reaching out, and a few stalwarts reached back. And now I have a bigger circle than at any time since college. But oh, that first invite was terrifying! Now I know: everybody wants to be valued, courted, listened to. Thank goodness I learned it in time.
Thank you for sharing these multiple transformations you went through. Indeed, if only we realized how many of us seek this. And I know it can be even harder sometimes for men to reach out and seek new friendships. As well as for all of us, the older we get. Perhaps especially in middle age... as we emerge from all-consuming busy parenting life into a new stage. So glad you found your new circle.
I really loved this. I’m almost 70 and moved into a new city seven years ago. It’s really hard to make friends when you were older. This piece has inspired me, though. I’m a writer and I love the idea of having little salons and I am going to start doing that in 2025.
Recognizing that not all friends need a live-in partner to speak to every day—or had one that they are finally rid of and love living and working alone—is always a first step. When I was younger and felt desperately lonely without someone to talk to every day, I collected dozens of "friends" so that I could call different ones on different days to stave off the loneliness. In my late 30s I tried an experiment: what would happen if I didn't call them? Would they call me? Most didn't, and I let them go. When divorce and two types of cancer coincided, I decided that if I was allowed to live (biopsy report was not encouraging), I wanted to be a stronger person. I moved to a city where I knew only two people and worked on myself until I got there. As I changed, I let more people go, so that while I have fewer friends, they are rock-solid friends. So when Covid hit, my writer/artist/working-at-home friends and I were fine being alone. I'm really sorry that you suffer from loneliness—something I well understand—but digging deep into yourself to turn loneliness on its head might really be helpful. Yes, we all need friends (and I treasure mine)—but for sharing with according to their needs as well, not to lean on daily. If a close friend goes into an "I don't want to talk to anyone for a while" space, that's her right, and I no longer panic. That lesson was hard-won but worth gold. And if I could learn it after half a lifetime of being "conversationally needy," I hope you might consider it, too. Doing so does not preclude finding community or making new friends—but it may include making new types of friends as well, friends better fitting with the person you are growing into. Just a thought.
Indeed, having a few close, true friends beats having a lot of 'friends' who don't or can't follow through and sustain a more meaningful, consistent connection. Going through divorce and Covid at the same time was especially hard, as everyone else was going through their own mini-crisis so there wasn't a way to find solace in friendship and community connection to make up for what was just lost, as newly divorced people often do.
When I was younger, in my 20s, I went through maybe eight years or so of regular solitude, no partner, just me and my journal and traveling and seeking. It was a transformational time I would never change. I was at home in my solitude, and love my solitude now too, in spurts. But I also have realized as I've aged that we as humans are wired for connection. I need people who are close to me, and keep that tether of connection going. Not daily, not even weekly, but consistently, intentionally. I do have some wonderful dear friends, but these recent years also taught me that I couldn't rely on just those few, as they indeed had their own troubles and busy lives to tend to. That I needed to cultivate new ones.
I'm so glad that you and your writing/artist friends were able to be at peace during Covid. And that you found new strength in your life after cancer and divorce. Indeed, it is not any old friends that we need, but those that can see and honor the depths of us.
Covid and divorce must have been hard! But perhaps you survived with more inner strength than you might have otherwise? I hope so. Ultimately, if our friends are submerged in their own pain or chaos, we have to be able to rely on ourselves, difficult as it appears.
Yes, of course you are right, we cannot rely on the few good friends—especially those of us who are getting older and losing too many. Perhaps I'm lucky because I travel for work and have younger friends (30s, 40s, 50s) who welcome me into their lives. But that kind of "luck" is a two-way street. One has to be open enough to invite the possibility of new friendship, not parsimonious or wary or carrying a list of requirements for friendship. So luck may be the wrong word. It's hard to know when looking at one's own life.
For example, I help the children or grandchildren of friends think deeply about and write their college application essays. Sometimes they become friends, too. If we shut ourselves up at home and don't connect with new people in one way or another, how can we make friends? Remember pen pals? We usually never met them, but they made interesting new friends if we kept writing.
A wise friend has always said that friends in school are friends of proximity: We happen to be in the classroom or dorm, or we meet on campus or at a protest rally. But when we get out in the world, that's when we find our friends of choice—and I have some that go back over 50 years. Others fell by the wayside, when one of us changed and the other didn't and resented the change. Recently I heard a saying that was new to me but apparently not new: "Friends are for a reason, for a season, or for a lifetime." When the seasons pass or the reasons change, one of us lets the other go. And we have to be OK with that, too.
I identify with so much of what you have written here. The need for friends, especially those intimate friends you can count on for anything at any time. Thank you for sharing this.
I felt exactly that same longing you're describing for so many years! I used to literally pray for a "best friend who lives next door". Guess what. In my 50s, it happened. My next door neighbor, about 9 years younger than I am, is the best friend I've ever had. All the good friends I thought I'd have in my life forever, the ones from my teens and 20s, all of them, one by one, deserted me, turned on me for imagined slights or whatever. And honestly, I realize now, with the lifestyle I now live - work, cook, clean, write - I don't have time for more than one close friend. I hope you find yours.
Mutual witnessing that leads to trust. I love that. And yeah, it takes a special form of nurturing for online acquaintanceships to turn into friendships IRL. The other night I went to a cookie swap with college friends I've known for 45 years. It reminded me how important relational history is. We've all been through so much, and we're grounded enough now to not have to pretend. It's kind of magical.
Thank you for writing this. You touched on so many important issues: the codependent dynamic of partnerships... the need to nurture close friendships and authentic IRL relationships... how the inhuman act of 'ghosting' has become so commonplace.
I feel that social media has ruined friendships and family relationships. People think they are keeping up to date with each other by looking at recent photos and occasionally clicking the 'like' button. Years go by with no further contact beyond a screen. What if social media didn't exist? Would people start using the telephone again (to call, not text)? The digital world we live in is convenient but has made us all so lazy.
It's true, social media is such a mixed bag. When isolated via the pandemic or disability, it can be the greatest balm. But it can't compare to what it feels like to take the time to connect, one on one, reaching out with care. I love it when a couple friends I know still call spontaneously vs. text. It's such a lost art. Thank you.
Thank you so much for reading and engaging, fellow humans! While I wrote this a year ago, and much has changed in my life, the same longing for intentional meaningful connection continues. Reporting back now-- I let the salons morph into more spontaneous, less frequent gatherings of smaller sizes, and then when I got too busy to host those, I turned to intentionally reaching out to newer friends, consistently.
What happened out of the salons though was that I feel like several of my friendships transformed from 'friendly acquaintances' into true friends, after inviting them into my home. And while most of us still don't have time (or the need) to see each other super regularly, it can be satisfying to let each friendship settle into its own natural reciprocal rhythm-- e.g. with one friend, we've agreed to meet quarterly, and that is perfect. With others, about once a month. Yet the intention has to keep being set and named, and shared on both ends, and its okay if some drop away for a season...
But the fact remains too that we all need those we can count on in an emergency. Who will call or look in on you, like family. That is hard to find when people live far away. It's all such a work in progress. Often, that means reaching out to a neighbor, who isn't necessarily a close friend, but who can still be there for each other, as caring humans.
Over the span of decades I can now look back and see a trajectory-- from a very introverted, shy young woman of my 20s to an extroverted-introvert now nearing 50, who is very much a community builder and connector for others, not just for myself-- in large part because I understand how hard it can be to break out of that extreme introversion. It can take a long time to change, and it was gradual. I heeded the call. It's nourishing me. I now treasure (pine for! as a parent especially) both my periods of solitude and silence and writing, and my expanded ability to go out in the world and see the faces of friends and kin in all. (though I'm not one for small talk. But give me a spontaneous deep brief mystical connection, sure). :) xoxo
Thank you, Tammy! We all need community and connection. The pandemic really did a number on us too, bringing that into stark reality all the more. I'm sorry it was so hard on you. There is still so much to process about that time and how it shifted awareness for so many. I hope we don't forget whatever lessons we learned.
Thank you for such openness. It hits me, as well, having retired from teaching high school where there was no lack of stimulation, even if that time was spent with people decades younger who cannot replace peers. Peer connection for me, except with my colleagues, was sacrificed in those years from exhaustion and moving an hour away from my original tribe. And getting divorced in my mid-forties. After building a "dream house" in the country. All that you describe, though, used to be the traditional role of a faith community, whatever faith you shared. For me, it was a church experience that naturally provided all of this. Yet in the last three decades, as we all have witnessed, those needs for community were replaced in many circles with political stances. That is what drove me away from that long held place of love and fellowship. I've tried to reckon with all of this in a memoir, just the idea of change and loss, yet the hopefulness of new relationships. I really appreciate the comments of hope here, and how we need to be purposeful and open, especially in these potentially disorienting years of retirement, not to mention the assuredly fractious coming four years.
Purposeful and open, yes, indeed. Intentional in naming what we seek and taking small steps to find it. I envy those with strong faith communities for whom it is a true place of love and solace. I am still open to finding a faith community that might work for me in this way, but so far have not found one that resonates on the multiple levels I need. Best of luck on your memoir!
Oh, how I love this and relate wholeheartedly! I've been feeling these same feelings and thinking the same thoughts. Close friendship is the biggest gift you can give another person. We need to prioritize it more.
Absolutely, thank you!
When my sons were 16 and 14, and lovingly, appropriately pulling away from me and inhabiting their own social circles, I came to the stark realization that I had exactly zero close friends. Nobody to have a beer with, or watch the big game, or see the latest violent epic. What was worse, my friend-making skills had atrophied to the point where I couldn’t make the phone call, or extend the invite. I was locked into a very lonely world. Out of desperation I began reaching out, and a few stalwarts reached back. And now I have a bigger circle than at any time since college. But oh, that first invite was terrifying! Now I know: everybody wants to be valued, courted, listened to. Thank goodness I learned it in time.
Thank you for sharing these multiple transformations you went through. Indeed, if only we realized how many of us seek this. And I know it can be even harder sometimes for men to reach out and seek new friendships. As well as for all of us, the older we get. Perhaps especially in middle age... as we emerge from all-consuming busy parenting life into a new stage. So glad you found your new circle.
I really loved this. I’m almost 70 and moved into a new city seven years ago. It’s really hard to make friends when you were older. This piece has inspired me, though. I’m a writer and I love the idea of having little salons and I am going to start doing that in 2025.
Yay, I love that!
Recognizing that not all friends need a live-in partner to speak to every day—or had one that they are finally rid of and love living and working alone—is always a first step. When I was younger and felt desperately lonely without someone to talk to every day, I collected dozens of "friends" so that I could call different ones on different days to stave off the loneliness. In my late 30s I tried an experiment: what would happen if I didn't call them? Would they call me? Most didn't, and I let them go. When divorce and two types of cancer coincided, I decided that if I was allowed to live (biopsy report was not encouraging), I wanted to be a stronger person. I moved to a city where I knew only two people and worked on myself until I got there. As I changed, I let more people go, so that while I have fewer friends, they are rock-solid friends. So when Covid hit, my writer/artist/working-at-home friends and I were fine being alone. I'm really sorry that you suffer from loneliness—something I well understand—but digging deep into yourself to turn loneliness on its head might really be helpful. Yes, we all need friends (and I treasure mine)—but for sharing with according to their needs as well, not to lean on daily. If a close friend goes into an "I don't want to talk to anyone for a while" space, that's her right, and I no longer panic. That lesson was hard-won but worth gold. And if I could learn it after half a lifetime of being "conversationally needy," I hope you might consider it, too. Doing so does not preclude finding community or making new friends—but it may include making new types of friends as well, friends better fitting with the person you are growing into. Just a thought.
Indeed, having a few close, true friends beats having a lot of 'friends' who don't or can't follow through and sustain a more meaningful, consistent connection. Going through divorce and Covid at the same time was especially hard, as everyone else was going through their own mini-crisis so there wasn't a way to find solace in friendship and community connection to make up for what was just lost, as newly divorced people often do.
When I was younger, in my 20s, I went through maybe eight years or so of regular solitude, no partner, just me and my journal and traveling and seeking. It was a transformational time I would never change. I was at home in my solitude, and love my solitude now too, in spurts. But I also have realized as I've aged that we as humans are wired for connection. I need people who are close to me, and keep that tether of connection going. Not daily, not even weekly, but consistently, intentionally. I do have some wonderful dear friends, but these recent years also taught me that I couldn't rely on just those few, as they indeed had their own troubles and busy lives to tend to. That I needed to cultivate new ones.
I'm so glad that you and your writing/artist friends were able to be at peace during Covid. And that you found new strength in your life after cancer and divorce. Indeed, it is not any old friends that we need, but those that can see and honor the depths of us.
Covid and divorce must have been hard! But perhaps you survived with more inner strength than you might have otherwise? I hope so. Ultimately, if our friends are submerged in their own pain or chaos, we have to be able to rely on ourselves, difficult as it appears.
Yes, of course you are right, we cannot rely on the few good friends—especially those of us who are getting older and losing too many. Perhaps I'm lucky because I travel for work and have younger friends (30s, 40s, 50s) who welcome me into their lives. But that kind of "luck" is a two-way street. One has to be open enough to invite the possibility of new friendship, not parsimonious or wary or carrying a list of requirements for friendship. So luck may be the wrong word. It's hard to know when looking at one's own life.
For example, I help the children or grandchildren of friends think deeply about and write their college application essays. Sometimes they become friends, too. If we shut ourselves up at home and don't connect with new people in one way or another, how can we make friends? Remember pen pals? We usually never met them, but they made interesting new friends if we kept writing.
A wise friend has always said that friends in school are friends of proximity: We happen to be in the classroom or dorm, or we meet on campus or at a protest rally. But when we get out in the world, that's when we find our friends of choice—and I have some that go back over 50 years. Others fell by the wayside, when one of us changed and the other didn't and resented the change. Recently I heard a saying that was new to me but apparently not new: "Friends are for a reason, for a season, or for a lifetime." When the seasons pass or the reasons change, one of us lets the other go. And we have to be OK with that, too.
I identify with so much of what you have written here. The need for friends, especially those intimate friends you can count on for anything at any time. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you for witnessing.
I felt exactly that same longing you're describing for so many years! I used to literally pray for a "best friend who lives next door". Guess what. In my 50s, it happened. My next door neighbor, about 9 years younger than I am, is the best friend I've ever had. All the good friends I thought I'd have in my life forever, the ones from my teens and 20s, all of them, one by one, deserted me, turned on me for imagined slights or whatever. And honestly, I realize now, with the lifestyle I now live - work, cook, clean, write - I don't have time for more than one close friend. I hope you find yours.
Nothing like having a best friend close by. Proximity helps so much in keeping that connection going. Thank you.
Powerful! I’ve been focused on intentionally building the last couple of years. It’s so necessary! Thank you for sharing!
Thank you! Indeed. It takes time, but pays off.
Mutual witnessing that leads to trust. I love that. And yeah, it takes a special form of nurturing for online acquaintanceships to turn into friendships IRL. The other night I went to a cookie swap with college friends I've known for 45 years. It reminded me how important relational history is. We've all been through so much, and we're grounded enough now to not have to pretend. It's kind of magical.
Indeed, nothing like the accumulation of years and history. The comfort in having so much of you seen and known.
Thank you for writing this. You touched on so many important issues: the codependent dynamic of partnerships... the need to nurture close friendships and authentic IRL relationships... how the inhuman act of 'ghosting' has become so commonplace.
I feel that social media has ruined friendships and family relationships. People think they are keeping up to date with each other by looking at recent photos and occasionally clicking the 'like' button. Years go by with no further contact beyond a screen. What if social media didn't exist? Would people start using the telephone again (to call, not text)? The digital world we live in is convenient but has made us all so lazy.
It's true, social media is such a mixed bag. When isolated via the pandemic or disability, it can be the greatest balm. But it can't compare to what it feels like to take the time to connect, one on one, reaching out with care. I love it when a couple friends I know still call spontaneously vs. text. It's such a lost art. Thank you.
Thank you so much for reading and engaging, fellow humans! While I wrote this a year ago, and much has changed in my life, the same longing for intentional meaningful connection continues. Reporting back now-- I let the salons morph into more spontaneous, less frequent gatherings of smaller sizes, and then when I got too busy to host those, I turned to intentionally reaching out to newer friends, consistently.
What happened out of the salons though was that I feel like several of my friendships transformed from 'friendly acquaintances' into true friends, after inviting them into my home. And while most of us still don't have time (or the need) to see each other super regularly, it can be satisfying to let each friendship settle into its own natural reciprocal rhythm-- e.g. with one friend, we've agreed to meet quarterly, and that is perfect. With others, about once a month. Yet the intention has to keep being set and named, and shared on both ends, and its okay if some drop away for a season...
But the fact remains too that we all need those we can count on in an emergency. Who will call or look in on you, like family. That is hard to find when people live far away. It's all such a work in progress. Often, that means reaching out to a neighbor, who isn't necessarily a close friend, but who can still be there for each other, as caring humans.
Over the span of decades I can now look back and see a trajectory-- from a very introverted, shy young woman of my 20s to an extroverted-introvert now nearing 50, who is very much a community builder and connector for others, not just for myself-- in large part because I understand how hard it can be to break out of that extreme introversion. It can take a long time to change, and it was gradual. I heeded the call. It's nourishing me. I now treasure (pine for! as a parent especially) both my periods of solitude and silence and writing, and my expanded ability to go out in the world and see the faces of friends and kin in all. (though I'm not one for small talk. But give me a spontaneous deep brief mystical connection, sure). :) xoxo
Thank you, Tammy! We all need community and connection. The pandemic really did a number on us too, bringing that into stark reality all the more. I'm sorry it was so hard on you. There is still so much to process about that time and how it shifted awareness for so many. I hope we don't forget whatever lessons we learned.