I'm baaaack

So after a slight hiatus, I begin again. Though my absence has probably not been missed by many, I have felt the slight void in my life where my blog used to reside. Admittedly, I have been pretty uninspired as of late, but I have also been busy doing and being.  I'm continuing my research, (so much to read, seriously, never ending!) started another class, have visited friends, met new friends, taken a few trips to the beach, attended a jazz festival!, been trying some new restaurants and wine...needless to say I have been enjoying my summer.

I decided the best way to dive back in was to write about a recent article I read in the NY Times, "Friends of a certain age: Why is it so hard to make friends after 30?" Now you're probably saying to yourself, "wait, she's not over 30?!" and I thank you for remembering that, but I think this article raises a lot of good points that hit close to home for many post-college people. I've written a lot about friendships over the past few months, as I began to realize just how important my relationships are to me in my life, and that will never change. I have my group of girl friends that I lived with in college that are like sisters to me, and I have a girl friend I've grown up with who is literally like a member of my family, even when we go without talking for a while. But making new friends? I feel like that's a daunting task when you are no longer living in a community that fosters adventure and new friendships.

 Friendship Stage 1: In college, the more the merrier

In the past, I've always hung out with different "types" of people. In college, I know my friends, (my now sisters) would sometimes look at me like I was crazy when I would hang out with some of the people that I did. But truth be told, I didn't care about what that girl did on Saturday nights because that's not when I hung out with her, and I didn't care that the group of guys I hung out with were a little "quirky" because they kept me laughing. I always felt a little strange that I never really have one single group of friends - like I was missing out on something. But maybe, what the article suggests about "adult" friendships is true: maybe it's best that we have certain friends for certain things. As we get older, who we are becomes clearer, and our needs from other people become more apparent and demanding. So then it becomes okay to have a workout buddy, and a reading buddy, and the friend you know you can always count on to have a few drinks with. I think that we can count on the fact that as we grow older and our lives change even more, the way we go about making friends and keeping relationships will have to change as well. And I think that's okay.

"A poem is a sword"

This article proves the power of voice.

Relationships?

 

I have always been...hesitant, to say the least, to enter a relationship. As my mother reminds me all too often, I tend to be a selfish person, especially recently. In my twenties, I feel like it's okay, almost necessary to be selfish - not with your time, your money, or your sympathy, but with yourself. You are discovering who you are all over again, and as you test boundaries, figure shit out, and (hopefully) begin to like what you see in yourself, it's only natural to hold that close, treasure it, because it's so fragile and you're afraid there isn't enough of it to give to someone else. I always felt that I couldn't have a relationship and at the same time grow personally and continue to be a full and complete version of myself. I was under the impression that being in a relationship was what Isha Judd refers to in this article; she says, "Unfortunately, often in relationships we play small, stuck in insecurity and sheltering ourselves within the role of co-dependency." That was what I had done in the past. I was afraid to see myself  in a role - as a "girlfriend." But I realize now that I never have to define myself int he context of a role.

At the risk of divulging too much information and becoming boring or pedantic, I don't wish to preach about "love." But I have to say that this article hits close to home. I am a person who is constantly on the path to self discovery, always wanting to grow, to do, to be. I began my current relationship when I was at an important time in my life; I was listening to myself, sure of myself, and confident as to who I was. My life felt full. But then I met John and I realized what more my life was capable of holding. As Judd says, this person unlocked parts of myself that I never knew existed. And instead of shutting them out, which is what I would have done in the past, afraid to open up my insecurities at the risk of becoming pigeonholed into a "role," I gave way and began to flourish. Growing with someone can be just as enriching as growing independently. Instead of looking around to people or "things" in our lives, looking within ourselves unlocks the most satisfying self discovery. Ans once this happens, you might be surprised at how much of yourself that you have, and are willing, to give.

"One is the quirkiest number..."

...unless you find someone just as quirky as you.
As an introvert, I spend much of my time contemplating life, the human condition, and psychology. Isn't that what we all do? Either way, I find articles like this from the Times particularly interesting. "The freedom, and perils, of living alone" fascinate me. And no Mom, it's not because I have an undesirable home life or don't love you, it's because well...I enjoy being alone. I'm fiercely independent (the way my mother raised me) and I am a Type A personality. I was a single child for most of my young life, and I am comfortable alone with my thoughts. When I was living alone, (extended house-sitting gig) I recognized in myself a lot of what the people in the article are talking about. I found myself singing and dancing more, talking to the dog despite the fact that I don't really have a strong attachment to animals, eating peanut butter at almost ever meal, and watching whatever television show I deemed appropriate for my mood. I also enjoyed doing my work in any area of the house because all was quiet and exceptionally tidy. Having my own space and the ability to make my own schedule was liberating.

All of that said, I don't exactly fear having a roommate the way I see some of the people interviewed here. I feel as if I'm a very self-aware person and I have gone through some major changes over the past two years or so.  During this transition in my life, I was alone most of the time. Yes, I lived at home, but I didn't reach out to my network of friends or colleagues, and I didn't have a boyfriend or someone close to me that I could share my ups and downs with. And I enjoyed that I only had myself to be accountable for. At times though, I became a recluse and isolated myself; there is a fine line between being alone and isolating oneself. Why do I care if someone sees me while I am sitting on the couch, eating peanut butter out of the jar, in my comfiest clothes, controlling the DVR?