We weren’t invited to one friend’s Christmas or New Year’s party this last season (although we were invited to an end-of-year birthday party which we regretfully passed up as it was in Seattle). I know, it’s kinda funny. There were a few galas open to groups we’re involved in, and we elected not to go to those for a few reasons. The season passed joyfully for us with much family love and fellowship. But the social and friendship aspect gave me a minute’s pause. A few weeks later, and two nights ago after a breakdown of intense sadness and many tears, I have come to see there is something amiss for me. I think I’ve begun to sort it.
I know many people take a lot from my life, my friendship, my writings (here and elsewhere), and my example (as wife, mother, social thinker, and whatever else). Lately I’m not sure how much I’m getting served by those I give to, those I think on so much, and the efforts I make to help (however effective – or non-effective! – they are). I feel a deep sadness when I think on this. I know I am loved by many people and liked by many people. I have only once in my life genuinely been rather friendless and that was such a breathtaking experience of pain and crystalline awareness I feel, today, a deep gratitude and awe when I think on this episode in my life. I am not “lonely”, not only because we are very social, but due to the quality of these many exchanges. Friendship, however, is sometimes elusive and trecherous terrain.
Sometimes I wonder if some people deliberately stay away. In saying this I don’t think I’m being overly neurotic or self-obsessed: think on it, if you wrote as often and as publicly as I do on (occasionally) very radical ideas and you knew you were read by many, you would probably wonder too. But without concrete evidence I can only guess if my impressions are true. I know many people think of me as “intimidating” (#1 adjective levied against me if not discussing my busoms), “smart”, “inspiring”, “open-minded” and “compassionate”; and many people will speak with glowing praise on my writings. I sometimes wonder if they keep me at a distance because they are as self-described: intimidated (I have done this myself in relation to some people) or threatened or angered or scared by my passions. As if all I am are the passions I write about.
But these are guessing games on my part. In the meantime, there is no shortage of “positive feedback”. Besides the explicit Thank Yous I receive, the words like those identified above and the thoughts many share with me on what they’ve read let me know I am appreciated. I believe I am very fortunate in that I’ve always taken praise with a grain of salt. Praise is not about me and my quality, it is about what was ignited within the individual receiving me. When my writing is praised I have the opportunity to learn a bit more about the one praising or thanking. It is a joy, a bone-deep joy, to know and believe those who tell me I’ve helped. I’m very fortunate to have helped many. But I’ve never taken it to mean I was something special, because I know I’m not, really. I’m merely a writer. I was happy to write before I knew my reader statistics and before I opened comments. I’m happy to write still. I will write until I can’t anymore, no matter who is reading and responding.
Appreciation is a positive experience for me and I do not want to belittle its role in my life, nor my gratitude for those who take the time to express it. I thank them then and I thank them now.
But being appreciated, admired, serving as helpful, and serving as a mentor are not the same as experiencing friendship.
Friendship is being together. Without conditions and without praise. With love. Love is simple. And scary sometimes.
Friendship means spending time. As I’ve gotten older and not only experienced family life but observed my friends and their young children, I have heard many, many say they don’t have time to see those they love, that they miss them, that they have to make more time for them – someday. And here I will get very personal, because this is where the sadness really hits me. When I hear this from my friends it injures – every time. My heart simply breaks and childhood hurts swell up inside me. It is not my friends’ fault. At all. It is something I have not yet moved past. My own mother, so dear to me, struggled with being so pinched she was often fleeing rather than being with me (my brother often does the same). She loved me and she paid for me but I sensed she was never There, her foot always half-out the door (ask my half-sister more about that, too). Her inability to be with me wasn’t about me, a little child who needed her, and then a growing and grown woman who wanted to be friends. It was about her feeling of claustrophobia and her fear that any commitment would limit her, her bargain that “busy” and earning money and Good Girl performance would make her worthwhile in the eyes of others – a bargain that served too-often as the lash against her back. It was, in final estimation, damage done her as a child in repeated and subtle or overt ways, within her family, sure, but within the narratives of a patriarchal culture built upon the suffering and hard work of and oppressions heaped on so many women and carers.
I can know in an evaluative way how my mother let me down, and I can forgive her for that, and I do (I think). I can know it in no way negates the many positive attributes of her character nor how much she loved us (it is a myth that parents who fuck up in this or that way have less “love” for their children). It also would be a false picture not to point out her commitment to earn a good wage and work hard to support us were valuable parental enterprises that kept us safe from many hardships (although more, I suspect, served her sense of “security” – something we can never really have, but so many seek out fervently). Her work served us one way, my father’s presense served me another. My experience of my father’s presence has been the greatest outside source of strength in my life. I wonder if it is his absence I feel so keenly, leaving a void in my life; I wonder if over these last couple years my sadness in some friendships is an echo of that pain.
But the hurt I experienced through my mother, it is still with me. I don’t know why. I blame myself now (there’s no point in blaming her). And I don’t understand; and I wonder if I’ll ever be free of those childhood hurts.
In light of my recent reflections and my feelings of sadness I’ve experienced anew a gratitude for the time I’ve recently received from friends. Thinking on it now there are more than I’d realized. Several dates smoking on the porch or getting a cup of coffee or sitting in our living room talking comic books and homestyle cooking; shopping at the thrift store and laughing until almost peeing; even the brief conversation in the parking lot when I know my friend is really there, really seeing me. IM conversations and email exchanges where my loved ones take time out of their life for me. The candy date in Olympia just last Monday. And last night being invited to our friends’ (Ralph seriously bogarted baby Easton) where we caught up and talked and experienced nothing more than fellowship.
People who read here should know (or be reminded) I don’t use this space as an attempt to communicate with someone indirectly. My thoughts here are not directed at an individual or a few individuals. I comb through my every sentence in an attempt to avoid this. This caution is something necessary in a public journal that wouldn’t be in a private one – but it also helps me avoid externalizing my conflicts while discovering what they are, deep inside, where they are often more complex and yet, in the end analysis, simple as a kitten on Christmas. I sometimes wish I could do all this “growing” in private, air these vulnerabilities without making myself vulnerable. But: there it is.
What I’d wish for anyone reading here, near or far, is to consider those in their lives they aren’t spending time with – and why. What is being served by missing someone, by loving them from afar? Consider telling them you love them. Consider spending time with them for the sake of seeing them. Compliments and thank yous can wait another time. Don’t assume anyone you know isn’t lonely or rattled or sad or needing support. Don’t assume those who appear “strong” do not have hurts and deep sadness. Don’t assume they know you like them, or love them. Assume instead you might not see them again (and you might not). Take back your life. It’s yours, just now.
I will be doing the same in the next few days.
And now? I’m going to get up from my computer now and go sieze that precious, flavorful strawberry.
***
Small Stone #13*
My children
love the way I smell.
Stand-In
(Small Stone #14*)
Family Meeting!
But father is asleep
I identify the fluffy and small kitty as his proxy.
Giggling, satisfied smiles all around
I’m not sure how this relates, but it’s what I thought of when I read this. I was sitting in a class the other day and we were talking about “family.” The instructor said to us, “What is your definition of family?” And immediately, my mind went to a picture of Cowgirl and the children at her house in front of the fire, soaking in the sunlight while winter raged outdoors. Not of my biological family, but of the people I consider my *family.* And in that moment, I realized that I had finally made my priorities my own. I dearly love my biological family. So much, my nephew that I rarely see. But the people around me day to day? My family. And I would give anything to spend more moments with them.
I also have been described as “intimidating,” which I take as a euphemism for “Sometimes you observe things that I didn’t and it makes me question myself in uncomfortable ways.” I know, I know. That’s an incredibly self-indulgent interpretation, but I’m going to stand by it. I’ve also been told several times over the last ten years that people feel like they’re walking on eggshells when they’re talking to me, which is a euphemism for “I think you might rip my fucking face off if I say something you think is douchey.” It’s hard to put a positive spin on this quality of mine. It’s true, I do rip douche faces off. Sometimes the fallout from this way of being is isolating.
Now, ‘course I’m not saying that we’re both the exactly same and we totally have the same business, but I think I might be able to empathize. I’ve learned from you about the vulnerability inherent in public writing about private lives, how to face that, how to bitch-up and take the consequences, but one thing we haven’t talked about is the pain caused by being aggressive (a.k.a. assertive, positioned, and expressive) in a passive aggressive’s world. It blows. Not that that’s necessarily what’s going on here. What do I know?
But suffice to say, I deeply appreciate your writings. If it weren’t totally lame, I’d suggest we have a twitter holiday party, but alas, the lameness. I know that you’re not looking for consolations, so instead let me say that I’ve thought deeply about your words and they will affect my life. That is how I love words.
Thank you for your kind and reflective words, ladies.
@k8
Our family consists of members we select as family. When we’re accepted in return this is a wonderful thing. I used to think my family of origin was warm and uncomplicated and emotionally close but I’ve had opportunity to see this is less true than I’d realized.
I can say the people I experience as most restorative in my life are my children and my husband. I used to experience my father this way too (hence one reason this was a great loss for me). To date my children are probably the only people I am entirely unselfconscious around. What I write here is the tip of the iceberg and nothing compared to the private life I have with them. I sing around them, I fall comfortably silent. My tone of voice changes. We bathe together, we sleep together, we roughhouse and tumble. They can criticize me and I rarely feel ashamed or personally stung. They are with me but there is no wall that goes up. I deeply hope they experience me this way (although I am unsure). I hope we always have this together.
I don’t know why I cannot be unselfconcious around anyone else besides my husband and children. Thinking on it now it feels a failure! I know there are people who experience this with others not bio-related. I think this takes a wonderful strength of character and a calmness that I perhaps do not possess. I hope that is true for you.
I’ve often thought how fortunate Cowgirl and her kiddos are to have you. I think we all remember that “family member” or friend of the family who CHOSE us, as opposed to being biologically and nonvoluntarily associated. I’m so glad to hear of your images by the fireside. What a wonderful home to have.
@JJ
No, I suppose I don’t quite relate to what you’re saying and what you’ve experienced. I have not so far experienced writing and feedback to be particularly combative or isolating – full stop. I also have a different read for why some people have called me “intimidating”. But I’ve navelgazed enough!
I know someone who I’ve heard people say they “walk on eggshells” around. I used to hold her in this reputation as well. Now I think this seems very unfair to that person. I realize for myself this is because her passions and her suffering scared me (I am a bit of a candyass). But she is not and never was a monster who will tear your head off off either literally or metaphorically. This particular person is just a passionate person with strong opinions (um, we all have those) who is very expressive and is to a degree suffering. Again, aren’t we all? (suffering). People tend to attempt to police women like that by making it sound like they’re so SCARY. I’ve never heard that particular eggshell expression levied against fellows with any degree of equal frequency (in my experience it’s been a rather gender-loaded pejorative like “shrill” and – as I was called a few days ago – “mouthy” – etc.)
When my kids were as young as yours I (through luck and circumstance) had so many friends and was never lonely. I needed those women. Now I need less quantity… but I need to up the quality I myself am bringing. If I can do it.
No, I suppose I don’t quite relate to what you’re saying and what you’ve experienced. I have not so far experienced writing and feedback to be particularly combative or isolating – full stop.
I haven’t either, overall, other than just a few experiences here and there. I’m not sure where you’re getting that from my response. I meant to say (but now realize that I didn’t) that for reasons that are entirely my own your post made me think about how difficult it sometimes is to be “on the record” with my opinions and vulnerabilities in a world in which people so often avoid discussing controversial things or directly conveying their feelings, something that might be more true in L.A. than other places. I suppose that my response to your writing may have more to do with me than what you wrote.
But in my case I’m not sure that the “walking on eggshells” problem of mine has anything to do with suffering, deep or otherwise; just a big mouth and occasional lack of patience and tact.
That first para is supposed to be a quote.
As I was reading, I was thinking of the fact that I often reach out the least to people who seem very competent (as I tend to feel that their lives are somehow “full” or perhaps they’ve got “it” together enough that they don’t need any input from me, or that they would in social situations already have plans months beforehand, etc — the last specifically around the holidays, when I do everything last minute and tend to invite those people over who I think wouldn’t have family commitments), and can feel intimidated also by people who seem to be much more “together” than I am, often wondering if they are judging my messy house or lack of ability to grow much of anything in my yard, or whatever. I realize that this is not the way in which you operate, you do not go around judging people for the number of dust bunnies that collect under their couch, or the number of hours of TV their kids watch per day — but perhaps, when people compare themselves and feel that they come up short (their own drama, for sure, not yours) it can be hard for them to realize that they still can be loved, admired, appreciated. Maybe this gives shape to the “intimidation” thing?
@JJ
Thank you for weighing in. Re: “walking on eggshells”, I was speaking of someone I knew and the Othering that phrase seems to be used as – to distance ourselves from someone who stirs us deeper than we are comfortable with.
@Christina
I was thinking of the fact that I often reach out the least to people who seem very competent (as I tend to feel that their lives are somehow “full†or perhaps they’ve got “it†together enough […] perhaps, when people compare themselves and feel that they come up short (their own drama, for sure, not yours) it can be hard […]
Yes. This most definitely rings a bell based on feedback I get. I guess I wish people would realize NO ONE has “it†together. There are people who seem like they do, but are a mess deep down inside. They need friends, they need love. They are also usually stressed from the performance of having “it†together.
Then there are people who really are calm and have a clean house and have well-raised kids or that garden or a spiritual life or whatever. But they don’t have “it†together either because they’re likely a genuinely spiritually-(relatively) whole person, not doing the “have it together†performance – and usually someone who totally has empathy for others who struggle in ways they might not. When I have the opportunity to get close to these people I end up finding them deeply calm and restorative… not intimidating.
As for me. Those I’m “intimidated†by reflect my own insecurities unique to issues not discussed here, which don’t involve clean houses or parenting or gardening (I know I suck at gardening, ha!). I realize I don’t really have the ovaries today to own up to who intimidates me and why. Maybe some other time. Ha.
(thank you also for your Amy Chua comment)
I read your blog (as I do each day) and I read this blogpost for the third time. I didn’t know how to respond, because in a way I can put you on a pedestal and be afraid to say something wrong.
I wish I lived closer to you because I would love to spend time with you and your kids. I love the comments you give on my blog.
I relate to your inner loneliness, and that it stems from your childhood, and I think you are brave to write about it.
When I became ill, I realized that I was the person who was responsible to keep in contact with people, because many are afraid of illness and of intruding in a family in crises. So I asked people over, I spoke clearly about my fears but also about the good, I asked for help, and I told everybody that I loved to hear about their stuff, including, especially, their problems. It worked for me, because more than a year later I’ve become closer to many friends (but I’ve lost some too for whom I was to intimidating).
I wish you lovely times with friends, laughing and talking and doing things and watching movies together.
If I didn’t live in Missouri I would have invited you to our lame new years party. It wasn’t great but we made pixie juice! (Vodka, mtn dew, and koolaid)
I appreciate you.
And I am very sorry that you are feeling so low about all of this, and I think you are very generous person who deserves to be treated in kind.
I don’t know what to say, but I wanted to say something, and tonight I think I’ll call someone I haven’t spoken to in a long time.
[…] tonight I think I’ll call someone I haven’t spoken to in a long time.
Perfect.
Thank you, ladies.
Personal relationships are so hard to navigate…I can remember countless friendships I destroyed by not tending them, and countless more I destroyed by over-watering. It makes me leery of making new friends. Right now I am finally in a place where I feel like I am making the best of the close friendships I have, but I still grieve for the ones I have lost and may never recover. I am glad I have found you again, Kelly! And I am sorry if, in my foolishness, I did not always respond to your kindness with the same amount of enthusiasm…I think it’s because I find you intimidating. 🙂
@Kate
I’ve had many women email and DM and IM me to tell me how scared they are of friendship (as I describe it anyway). Clearly this has hit a nerve!
Thank you for your comments!
All of this. Your post, the replies in the comments, the comments from others–all of it. This thing, this not having friends, or at least not in the way that I desire, yet feeling very grounded and whole with my husband and children, is constant. I also know the words “intimidating” or even, “cold”.
@Christina, please friend that person with the clean house. Like Kelly said, they need love and friendship just like you do. When I clean my house, when I garden and bake and design and make things special, it’s because I love my family and friends and it’s my way of expressing that. I was often homeless as a child, so my home is something I walk around in every day, feeling immense satisfaction, joy and gratitude at having. I simply want to share that joy. I seek friendship so that I can know that person’s joy, and it may not be (and most likely isn’t) housekeeping. But it most certainly is something, and I would love to be included and invited to know what that is.
And yes, all of this, while still being terrified of friendship. Thank you Kelly, and others, for saying (always) what I can’t or won’t discuss on my own blog.
Amy, thank you for commenting.
i love you. thanks for helping me think through this, too.
We don’t get a lot of invites to social gatherings either. We did in the past but I would say we weren’t in a good place then either. We are in a better place now and mostly do not have those same friendships which, I think, says those weren’t good relationships if they weren’t making us better people. I don’t mind for me. I’ll be honest and say that I mostly seek out the relationships I want to but, then again, I don’t have a high need for social interaction. My husband, on the other hand, does so I wish for his sake we did get more invites to do things. Since having our daugher, though, his desire is more towards just spending time the 3 of us.