The Back Side of the Blessing

All day, I've been on and off about whether or not to write about this, but I'm struggling right now and decided to blog on the off chance that someone else might read it and think, "Me, too!" and feel less alone.

We've discussed before (like how I say that? I kind of feel like blogging can be a conversation, when people interact, anyway) my apparent inability to make and maintain friendships, namely with other women.

At many times in the past, my schedule was set up to allow for regular social interaction.

In Las Vegas, when D was Mal's age, I had weekly planning meetings at church: D went into childcare, and I sat with creative types, throwing ideas around, listening to music, and making each other laugh. Then on the weekends, I'd often sing or be in a drama, so I'd spend several hours on Saturday night and Sunday morning hanging out in the green room with people, eating together, sharing our lives.

Now, once, before D was born, I had a viewing party at my house because I'd been at a concert where I was definitely going to be in the televised video and no one but my friend Adrienne (and my family) showed up, and that kind of stung.

But there were other things, other get-togethers, and the big one when our planning meeting was postponed in lieu of helping me move the stuff from my house into a moving truck.

And that was all good. But, honestly, none of those people were "I have a couple of hours free; I should call so we can meet for anything other than coffee" people.

Then we moved to Texas. Again, it was easy to fall into a pattern of social scheduling: I joined a ladies' class that had regular "fellowships" (which were fun, even if they used to be highly structured to the point of being a little ridiculous), and a preschool-aged homeschool group (all of those kids are teenagers now; it's crazy!), and eventually the same thing with church and meetings. We did homeschool enrichment classes, and so most weeks spent a full day with other parents (and lots of kids). D got really involved in gymnastics, so I would chat with the moms there.

And then toward the end of our time in North Texas, I got involved in the theater and made some "hang out" friends, for the first time, people I knew not because they were other parents and our kids were small, but because we had a common interest. And that was really the first time I had "real" friends in my adult life. Then we moved.

We tried a few times to make forays into the homeschool community here (it's huge), but then D's anxiety started taking over and she's not up for big group events anymore. After Mal was born, I tried joining some different "mom" groups, and none of those took.

For a while, when we first moved, we had our small group, and then there have been other times where, say, my birthing center has had regularly-scheduled things to help get women out of the house and chatting. In the past year or so, every construct that was in place has slowly eroded.

When I go out these days, it's with my sweet little guy, and that's it. The other day, when D was up and making her "breakfast" (while Mal was taking his afternoon nap), I was talking to her about some stuff I'm dealing with with Mal and realized, even though I already knew it, that she couldn't care less. This wasn't something to waste the few minutes a day we get to talk on. I thought, "Good gravy, Mabel, this girl needs a friend."

Now, understand, I have a friend. A best friend. But he's a man. And he's an introvert. And he spends all day around people. And he's so good and attentive and sometimes, mostly in the morning, but sometimes at night, too, I feel like I'm blowing out his proverbial speakers... Like I'm talking, but we've hit a point where he can't absorb without it stressing him out. That's why God made more than one lady, I'm sure.

It's just interesting to me to think back and realize that I had a social network (in real life) and a regimen in the past that has lent the aura of friendships without genuinely producing friendships. I do have a couple of people that I see every few months, but if I'm stressed in the middle of the day and need to talk to someone? I just try to think about something else, stay in the moment with my kid, and do the thing.

In the past few months, I've just found myself struggling with loneliness quite a bit. And I'm not sure how to fix it, other than the last sentence of the paragraph above.

As an aside, I'm glad I get to stay home. It is, as I entitled this post, a blessing. It's huge. It's what I want to do. At some point in the very near future, however, I hope I'm again in the position to be a good friend to someone again.