Moving a year and a half ago has whisked me into a spray of new social settings. Even existing friendship groups have felt different, have needed to be tried on and adjusted for size. In the throes of these meetings and reunions, one friend told me, “We write narratives about the people we don’t see regularly,” and I knew exactly what she meant. We lean on the phantasmagoria of social media, or stories heard-second-hand, and we draft a portrait that may or may not be true. I am thinking of the bioluminescent creatures in my son’s favorite deep sea book: on one page, you see an alluring network of incandescent dots intended to obscure the fish’s actual shape, either flummoxing or attracting fellow sea creatures; on the other page, you see the fish, fully contoured, as it appears up-close and in real life.
I feel as though I know myself fairly well, but these interactions with friends old and new have stretched me. There have been harrowing interactions, and life-affirming ones. There have been instances where I have felt one inch tall, ones where I have been fully embraced for who I truly am, and ones where I have cringed at undeserved laud, a prodigal son (daughter) returning home. Sometimes, to my friend’s earlier insight, I have felt I am performing — either a former version of myself, or some version of myself I think they want me to be. On occasion, I have needed to burrow into my home life, say no to things and people, just to get my sea legs back. And in some cases, I have felt malleable to the point of adrift. I have entered rooms and found myself unwittingly re-shaped by the sonar of the social setting. I remember leaving one party that was, frankly, full of adult “mean girls” and having a strong urge to call a grade school girlfriend to commiserate. How could I let strangers make me feel that way?
There have been rooms in which I’ve gone quiet, others in which I’ve overshared, and still others in which I’ve found myself straining to present a particular angle of my prism.
All of this can occasionally lead me to the kind of miserliness in which I think, “I have enough friends as it is…” But —
This is life: trying on new people and places. Making new circles. Sometimes looping back and doubling down on the ones you already have. Growth happens in discomfort. I just need to show up with earnest friendliness. And remind myself (which I often do, in the car just outside of a gathering) to listen more than I speak and to remember, in the words of Oscar Wilde*: “Be yourself. Everyone else is taken.”
Post-Scripts.
*This quote is likely apocryphally attributed to Wilde, or an abridgment of something longer he wrote.
+On female friendships and the things that matter.
+On getting over a failed friendship.
Shopping Break.
+If you see me wearing jeans, I am wearing Madewell’s Perfect Vintage style about 90% of the time. I just can’t quit them. Go a full size down — these run big.
+Love this striped shirtdress. ($69!)
+Per usual, Minnow’s latest collection is adorable. Love the Bahamian blue stripe pieces.
+Pamela Munson just released a petite version of my favorite spring/summer bag in such great colors: dusty blue, petunia, and lilac. I sung the praises of this bag in this post, though do note I have a larger size. The smaller one might be more realistic for everyday life if you’re not schlepping as much around.
+These “tulip” baskets are so chic.
+I just love the look of these outdoor swivel chairs.
+Wrist weights — I’m intrigued by these, as I think I want to start doing the “strength-training” Apple Fitness videos. I usually just do the core and cycling ones. More recent fitness finds here.
+Pretty spring pillows.
+A perfect spring shoe.
+Gap, is that you?! This dress!!!
+How adorable is this desk lamp for a little girl?
+OMG these party hats!