I have no friends. That’s something I started saying not long after I moved to Victoria. It was a bit of a joke, but it was also kind of true. Initially I think I was just missing my friends from Toronto. Whenever I pressed pause and took a beat to examine this friendless state of being I didn’t necessarily feel sad or that I was missing out on something. Like one normally would who had made such a confounding declaration. But until recently I have been quite untroubled by this notion. Because the truth is, my life has always been full of people. Great people. Kind people. Inspiring people. Some, I’m even related to. People I love, adore, care deeply for, who bring so much heart and meaning into my life. So, there’s that.
Little backstory. Over the years, I have met a lot of people through work. Some of my favorite people, in fact. Brilliant. Talented. Funny. Kind. Caring. The real deal. Relationships that were meaningful. Authentic. Sincere. Important at the time. I’m grateful to every single person who shared their nine-to-five (and more) with me over the years. These work relationships were entertaining, and one hundred percent satisfied my need for socializing, not just Monday to Friday but beyond that as well. My hobnobbing mingle mixing meetups were everything I needed. And then some. Outside of my family, I honestly didn’t need much more. Nor could my introspective introverted meditative ruminative timid psyche handle it. I was quite content. But here’s the really big thing that haunts me. After the jobs ended, so did most of these friendships.
There have been a few exceptions of course. At one agency there was a group of us who bonded over our dogs so after we all left, we got together to walk our dogs. But that ended. Dogs died. Human hearts were broken. Logistically it became too challenging to coordinate all the people and their dogs. Before we knew it, we weren’t walking together anymore. Then there’s another group of us (mostly women) from The Big Pink (iykyk) who keep in touch twice or thrice a year. We do lunch at one of our favorite restaurants. It’s nice. And then from those two work groups, one smaller circle of comrades has morphed that includes colleagues and associates from the very first design studio I worked at when I moved to Victoria. We also get together for lunch and laughs. It feels especially good to connect with these folks. Our relationships span over three decades and for a couple of us, even longer. I always feel so nourished after one of our lunches.
But again, life moves along and sometimes friendships drift away. Not intentionally. It just happens. I’m so grateful to all these folks – from the dog walkers and The Big Pink girls to the oldie but goodie (OBG) designers and creators. They all hold a special place in my heart.
By now you must be thinking: ‘What the hell is her problem? She has lots of friends.’ And on some level, very near to my brainbox, that’s very true. I do. But when you cruise closer to my heart and soul, it doesn’t always feel that way. Especially lately.
More recent backstory. When we were all “sent home to work” (feels like an oxymoron) during covid it was weird at first, but I adjusted into my new normal and even grew to like it. There was lots of work to do and meetings with my colleagues and clients on Zoom or Teams began to feel comfortable. It felt like I was literally with people, in the flesh so to speak. I was willingly deceived by the fantastical illusion, the delusion, the chimera that this was all real, that I was sitting in a real bricks and mortar studio somewhere downtown with real live human beings that I could walk over to their desk to chat about a project or have lunch together in a nearby café. It felt like “business as usual.” But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
The weird thing is, I never ever felt like I was on my own. Alone in my office. No one else around but my sleeping dogs. I never felt lonely. Because, delusional or not, it felt like I was surrounded by people. Constantly.
But in the past year, things have changed. The pace has grown slower. The online meetings less frequent. Things have gotten quiet. Whisper soft. Hushed. Muted. And today, here I sit in the middle of another new normal trying to figure out how to navigate this uncharted reality. How to fill my days in a meaningful way.
The quieter it becomes, the more ill at ease I feel. The more I realize how important a social network is, especially as you age. The quieter it becomes the more I long for community. Throughout the years (from Toronto to Victoria), that’s exactly what I have been blessed with at my various workplaces. Something I foolishly thought I would always have. You can’t put a price tag on human connection and social interaction. It’s one of the top three markers that studies of Blue Zones indicate as being key to longevity and good health – physically, spiritually and mentally. Quite simply, social interaction with your community not only feeds your brain but it keeps you young. Keeps you healthy all the days of your life. I want that. For me. For you. For everyone.
Through the quiet introspection that solitude brings, I have come to realize that I need to be part of a physical community. Not an online version. Not a social media version. Not an email or text version. Not a once-in-a-blue-moon-special-occasion version. I want to be a part of a community every day. I want to interact with people from all walks of life, be a part of their lives, to see them, listen to them, be their good neighbor and their compassionate kind friend. I want to belong. I want you to belong too.
I have also realized that having one or two close friends is essential to our wellbeing. My mother always told me that if I had one best friend in my lifetime, I was blessed beyond measure. I have had that since I was fifteen years old and I’m eternally grateful to have her. But here’s the thing, she lives over two thousand miles away, so we don’t get to see each as often as we’d like. But when we do it’s like we’ve never been apart. That’s the magic of best friends.
But the distance thing presents a bit of a dilemma. If I could wave a magic wand everyone would have a special someone to hang out with, do stuff with, have meaningful conversations over tea, confide in, laugh together, a safety net, a shoulder to cry on, someone to sit with on the veranda or porch steps, and just be there. Someone to speak shorthand to. Or to sit comfortably within the silence. Someone who gets you. And you get them. I pray we all find our friends. Before it’s too late.
A final thought. I also know that everything and everyone has a life span. An expiry date. Some friendships are built to last a lifetime. Like the one with my BFF. Others last for a few years. Like with my workmates. And others only months or weeks. Like the folks I meet in yoga or ballet class or in the concert band or at a music festival or neighbors.
But the important thing, regardless of the length of our time together, is that it matters. Friendships matter. Don’t ever lose sight of that.
