The Friendship Fixation
Recently, Ellen Scott wrote an essay that gave me pause. In her incredibly moving piece for Stylist Magazine, entitled “At 31, I don’t have the friendships I’m supposed to - and it feels like I’ve failed,” Scott acknowledged loneliness in a way that feels new to me. I often hear of isolation expressed with a sense of lack - and I’ve certainly felt that way at points. But it’s not often that someone cops to its knife-twisting, FOMO quality - the notion that cultivating a tight circle of friends can feel like a benchmark. Scott talks not only about being alone but also sitting with feelings of failure.
Perhaps this says something about our value system. In intimate discussions, I’ve heard more than a few people in my life wish that they could meet certain milestones. Maybe a marriage, or a baby. Maybe a new home. Maybe a different job in a different place. We reveal so much by our wishes.
Yet I’ve never heard someone admit to feeling like a failure for not having friends. As someone who recently released a book that celebrates the power of friendship, I feel a responsibility to confront its counterpoint. Because for every tribe, there are people excluded from the circle.
I can’t share too much from Scott’s poignant essay. (It’s behind a paywall - please consider supporting excellent writers and publications!). However, I’ll share her powerful pull quote:
“Everyone agrees that it’s hard to make new friends in your 30s, but I feel alone as someone who doesn’t have old friends. I don’t have a base group to expand from and add to. It seems like everyone does. But what if people just aren’t talking about it?”
Kudos to Scott for being brave enough to initiate an open discussion. Vulnerability often invites others to share, so I’ll share my own story: I haven’t always felt like I’ve had core group of friends, either.
I don’t have a best friend from the age of three. In childhood, my family moved twice. (As an aside, I distinctly remember being jealous in high school of friends who’d known each other since they were peanuts. There is probably a German word for this feeling). Due to attending school away from my roots and adult life events, I’ve moved a handful of times since then. Do it enough, and it takes on a cyclical quality. While I’ve done my best to stay in touch with people from my past, I’ve had to make new friends with each new season. There are still moments when a friend will mention having attended our children’s elementary school, and I’ll be struck with the whiplash sensation of being brand-new (and displaced) again.
Still, I’m going to submit that my unwieldy path to cultivating friendships (and Scott’s as well) is just as valid as those who were fortunate enough to have grown up with their people. Because as much as our society elevates community and as much as we’re pack animals, we also need to know how to be alone.
Loneliness can be an achy, depressing burden to bear. Yet being secure in solitude means one hugely important thing: you’re not settling. We often only think of settling in terms of romantic relationships, but I believe that conception is too narrow. Red flags present in any type of relationship: intimate, familial, professional, platonic, etc. Going it alone, or having a very small circle, might mean that you’re having trouble making friends. There might be some fear that needs to be confronted. Alternatively, you might be putting yourself out there, opting out of friendships that feel forced, and waiting for a better fit. At any age, we’re entitled to vet our social circle this way.
I endeavored in SUMMER TRIANGLE to conjure friendships that felt true. Natalie and Eliana, who have known each other since childhood, rarely connect as adults who live different lives on opposite coasts. They call each other best friends, but -- as my wise editor said when she was taking a red pen to the manuscript - are they really? Allegra brings a fresh perspective, yet also the weight of years of experiences lived out of sight of her new friends. By the end of the book, their efforts to connect change their lives.
No matter how old you are, it can feel intensely vulnerable to try to make a new friend. However, I think it’s important to let ourselves off the hook. Friendships with our peers matter - but they’re not the only relationships that matter. In my previous lonely stretches, I’ve leaned on other relationships more. These relationships can be beacons of light during periods of uncertainty. A strong marriage. A phone call with a grandmother. Lunch with a co-worker. Nurturing existing relationships, however they come to us, reminds us of our capacity to connect and enriches our lives. Even if brunch with best friends isn’t involved, the experience of connection can be beautiful.
Scott’s piece is extremely brave, but let’s try to not to define ourselves by where we think we fall short. We have to give ourselves grace and trust that our relationships are valuable - even if they don’t fit the mold of what we think we should be.
By the way, the German word sehnsucht means “a mix of sadness and craving, usually accompanied by a strong desire to be with someone -- but you can’t.” The Germans have a way of nailing down the indescribable, don’t they? Yet if there’s a word that exists for this feeling, this quiet sadness of being on the outside of a tribe and looking in, it means that many, many people have felt this way. Scott isn’t alone in her discomfort. Her willingness to share her feelings is a key access point, allowing others to connect with her and with each other in a more sincere way. She would make an excellent friend. At some point soon, the people trickling into her circle will feel lucky to know her.
And for those of us blessed enough to have close friends we can meet for brunch, maybe it’s time to pull a chair and make space for someone new.
