The Evolution of Friendships

I've had a surprising number of conversations recently about the evolution of friendships.  Mainly, about how sometimes it seems like we remain friends with those we met during childhood or high school in spite of the fact that we've grown up and changed.  Whereas we seem to be friends with those we met during college and after because we've grown up and changed.

I don't know if this is true for everyone, but it seems to be true for a lot of the people in my life right now and, to a certain extent, it's also true for me.  It's amazing how the seasons of our lives are marked by the friendships we made as well as the friendships we ended.

When I was a child, one of my best friends taught me to love books.  She was/is so incredibly smart and, though I didn't realize it at the time (and therefore balked at it when my 10 year old brain took any notice), she held me to a higher standard than I held myself.  She moved away when we were in the fifth grade but we somehow managed to check in with one another once or twice every five years or so.  We evolved.  We aren't best friends anymore, but we are definitely friends.  We've changed, but I still love her so dearly.  There are no strings attached to our friendship, no roles we claimed for ourselves as children that we've been unable to get out of as adults.  We are accepting of our individuality, our growth.  And I've come to recognize that the person I would be had we never been childhood friends is so very different from the person I am and the person I want to be.

There were also friendships made during my childhood that were never meant to grow up with me.  They were meant to teach me lessons, and then to fade away.  From these friendships, I learned about the kind of friend I'd been, and that I didn't want to be that anymore.  I didn't want to be judgmental or mean (as tween girls can so be).  I didn't want to be clique-y and exclusive.  Making fun of other girls, putting myself in a place of grade-school power just so I wasn't the one being made fun of was way to grow up.  It made me a lousy person.  These friendships taught me these lessons when they turned on me, when rumors flew and the catty stares I'd once given were now aimed my way.  It was a hard way to learn it, but I'm so grateful for it.  I'm not sure it could have been taught any other way.

At a certain point, our friendships can seem like rocky love affairs.  We are co-dependent and jealous, selfish and self-absorbed.  These relationships can burn bright and then burn out, and it's a painful struggle as you learn to let go.  I met a girl in middle school and we just clicked immediately.  She was, I now recognize, everything I wanted to be but wasn't.  We were opposites and we filled gaps in each other that needed to be filled for a time.  Where she was reckless, I was cautious; where she was in-your-face, I was mild-mannered.  My other friends tried to warn me off our friendship but I didn't listen.  We stopped being friends, the way high school girls do, more times than I can count before patching things up and being inseparable for another few months.  There was a final straw involving her and a boy I'd liked for 2 years.  I knew after that that this wasn't the kind of friendship I needed in my life.  I slowly started to back out of it.  After graduation, we lost touch almost completely.  Our lives have taken vastly different roads headed in almost opposite directions.  I see things now about her, about who I was then, about our friendship, that I wasn't able to see at 15.  We fed each others insecurities and were in constant competition for I don't know what.  But I'm still thankful that we were friends at all.  She allowed me to be a bit wild with her, and that's not something I was able to do elsewhere.  This was a friendship characterized by fun and freedom, even while we held one another down.

But not all high school friendships are like that one.  There are women in my life right now that have been with me forever.  We dealt with homesickness together during the first few weeks of boarding school.  We were fans of NSYNC together.  We obsessed about boys and wrote fan fiction together.  We got ready for school dances and got drunk off of Smirnoff Ice on beaches together.  We fell in love with Coldplay and screamed at football games together.  We cried at graduation together because we worried things would never be the same.  And now we're going to each other's weddings, texting one another from across the country, talking about jobs and babies and "Ohmygod, did you see that so-and-so from high school has five kids already?!"  These friendships are not always easy because we became friends with certain versions of ourselves -- so it can be hard to find commonalities between us as adults.  But we work at that.  And we try to give each other space to grow.  Because these friendships still bring something to my life; these women are familiar and funny and they know my story without me having to tell them.  They are the ones that I am 100% sure will be there for me in the darkest of times because they have been in the past, no matter what.  That bond is difficult to break.

And then there are the friendships we make as adults.  These friendships can seem the closest, the most immediate, because these are the friends you see or talk to all the time, the friends that the You you are now has chosen.  My current circle includes friends that were Nate's and are now mine, friends we've made together as a couple, and the friends I've made on my own either during or after law school.  I don't know how to explain these relationships other than to say that they are so engaging, so supportive and encouraging.  These are the friends I see at "Family Dinner" on Fridays and Saturdays.  These are the friends who come over to bring me wine and movies when I have a slipped disk.  These are my Girls Night and my camping crew.  They know my drink preferences and the fact that I want to become a long-distance hiker.  Our conversations are most often about issues like politics and greed and socialism and nutrition and poverty and education (and friendships...this blog post came from one of those conversations) because that's just what's important to us.  We are friendships built on ideas, on who we want to become, on who we are at the moment, and the things that drive us.  My life would be so much less without them right now.

This is all to say that I think the best friendships are the ones we choose to keep because they enrich us, they bring something to us and we know we can bring something to these friends.  Friendships, like all relationships, require work and acceptance and space and commitment.  But they are worth it.  Regardless of whether certain friendships have lasted or have faded, they have all been worth it.

Today is Special

I'm not usually a jumper.  I'm a cautious person.  I take calculated risks.  It's not easy for me to trust, to put too much on the line when the end result is the product of too many variables.  Things happen in life, I know this, but I make an effort to think through every outcome I can imagine, to be as sure as I possibly can before taking my next step.

Today is different.  Today I jump without really knowing.

And that's okay with me.


[Photo source: http://awesomepictures.me/post/8509327101]

The Teacher's Girlfriend

As the long-time girlfriend of a teacher, the start of the school year fills me with not a little anticipation and anxiety.  It used to just mean the fall was here, that the bus would be packed once again in the mornings and afternoons, that stores would have amazing sales on office supplies.  Now, it means a whole different slew of things.

Being in his fifth year as an honors U.S. History and American Lit high school teacher (at his alma mater, in fact) in one of California's most dysfunctional school districts, Nate is both prepared and unable to prepare for whatever the next nine months may hold for him us.  Sure, his lesson plans are ready to go, he has healthy after-school routines in place so that he can separate work life from home life, and he goes to bed about two hours earlier on average.

But there's no way to plan for those pushy parents who believe their kids are going to write the next great American novel when they can barely string two sentences together.  There's no way to prepare for those entitled students who believe they can and should be able to cheat their ways into Ivy League schools.  There's no way to fortify your work against administrators who are just trying to shove their loads onto others so they can leave school early.  And in a school where the demographic has so drastically shifted over the past two years from being historically black to being predominantly white and middle- to upper-class, there's no way to insulate yourself against the race and class tensions which pervade the environment.

And as Nate's partner, there's even less I can do to help him.  I can accept that, with the school year starting, I now share him with more than a hundred other people, more than a hundred assignments he has to grade after he gets home at night.  I understand that our weekends consist of -- if we're lucky -- a Friday night date and a Saturday full of errands before he starts working again Sunday morning.  And I know that I'll worry about him when he can't sleep at night because of the stress, because the to-do lists and curricula won't stop running through his mind.

But it's never easy.

He does wonderful work -- and he's a fantastic teacher.  But his job isn't easy.  With more resources, a better teacher to student ratio, a cleaning up of both the district administrators and the teachers union, higher pay, a damn contract under which to work and argue for rights, maybe things would be better.

But until then, welcome back.  School is now in session.

A Look Back on Intentions

I've been thinking a lot lately about how far I've come in the past year or so.  I've decided to re-start Stratejoy's Joy Juice journal prompts from the beginning and, one of the first questions I'm journaling about asks me to examine the ways in which I'm spending my time.  I already know that the answer to this question is so telling -- how we choose/agree to spend our time says so much about our intentions in our lives and our commitments.  Do we choose to work 24/7, perhaps because we intend to have a very comfortable lifestyle that requires wealth and privilege?  Do we choose to surround ourselves with the great outdoors, maybe because we intend to live as organically and in-tune with the natural world as we can?  There are so many variations of these answers, each as revealing as the next.

A year ago, I was drowning.  I was drowning in my own lack of self-worth, my need for approval, my fear of disappointing the people I cared about.  I was desperate for something, anything, that would get me out of the situation I found myself in and, though I knew it, I was too afraid to act on the fact that all I needed was some courage.  I was spending my time doing something that made a toxic mess of my days.  I was zoning out on TV whenever I could just so I could sit and stare off into space and not have to actively participate in my own life.  I was pulling away from people, going inward, and wondering how I got there in the first place.

When I go back to those first Joy Juice prompts from a year ago, my intention was clear: I intended to suffer through every hour as the responsible, stable, dutiful girlfriend/daughter/sister/employee rather than step up and take charge of my life.

This is one of the reasons I love Stratejoy so much.  Because at the near-lowest I thought I could go, this positive corner of the internet helped me to realize that I wasn't alone, that this wasn't a new feeling, that other young women were experiencing exactly what I was experiencing, and they were making changes.  I realized that it was possible to change without my family, my relationship, my reputation, the world falling apart all around me.

Fast-forward to today.  I can barely think of a single toxic thing in my life right now.  True, I don't have a job, but my days are filled with so much, and that so much is so right, that I find it hard to complain sometimes.  I've found a passion I didn't know I had, made wonderful new friends when I thought I had no idea how to even make friends, and I'm exploring creativity in ways I've always wanted to.  I'm concentrating on my health -- all aspects of it -- and I'm giving attention to Nate and the community we've built together.  What's even better is seeing how my choices have changed, how the primary questions I ask myself now when faced with difficult decisions (like whether or not to apply for a job or take an unpaid internship or invest my time and energy into something) aren't, "How will this look?  What will so-and-so think of me?" but rather, "Is this right for me?  Is this who I am or want to be?  Will this make me happy?"

My intention in this new year was to live a fearlessly authentic life, and I think I'm living up to that well so far.

But I think there's an even greater lesson I've learned from this year of change and reacquainting myself with authenticity, and that's to accept where I've been.  I was ashamed for a long time about the person I was and the choices I made in the past few years.  I thought it showed how weak or flighty or foolish or stubborn (yes, I realize flighty and stubborn are somewhat contradictory) I was.  But I'm just not sure I think that anymore.  Without those moments, those choices, would I have ever gotten to where I am now?  Would I be moving in the right direction today if I hadn't gotten so turned around back then?  Who can really say?

Isn't it just better to acknowledge -- and maybe even celebrate -- the path that lead you to where you are?  Who are we to question the universe?


[Photo source: quote from http://www.tut.com/resources/notes/]

My Own Brand of Self-Care

There's something to be said about being gentle with yourself.  Being kind, being forgiving.  Even being comforting.  I know all of this, I've journaled about it, I've said I'm going to really give it a try.  But I'll be the first to admit that, if you're like me and this is just not your default setting, it can be pretty difficult.

But I tried to keep this gentleness in mind this morning when things started to feel piss-poor and overwhelming.  I tried to breathe through my stress over some emails and commitments, I tried to take my dog for a walk and enjoy the cool morning and quiet neighborhood, I told myself I didn't need to run today if I didn't really want to, I tried to remember that I really do enjoy hangtime with friends even when its at the end of a long to-do list.  I even tried to meditate.

Yes.  I did.

And when all that didn't work, when the emails still irritated me, when I wanted to yell at my neighbor to keep his damn dog on a leash and not bring it over to mine after I tell him that Finn has some dog-issues, when my commitments were just too much, and -- here is the root of it -- when I heard back that I didn't get yet another job, one that, while it had it's own set of problems, would have been a great opportunity for me, I broke.

I threw meditation out the window (it wasn't working for me anyway, in part because Finn thought that by mama sitting on the floor it was time to play with his ball), bailed on one of my commitments (I'm lousy company right now), laced up my shoes (since I couldn't not run when I said I would and bear one more self-disappointment today), got my loud pop/punk girl music on (i.e. Paramore, The Veronicas, Hey Monday, etc.), and tried to exhaust the frustration out of my system.

Why loud music and running helped me when nothing else could this morning, I don't know.  Maybe when the music's loud I don't have the brain space to worry anymore without giving myself an aneurism.  Maybe when I'm running I'm so concentrated on not falling on my face that there's no room to focus on the stress.  Maybe it's endorphins.  Who the hell knows? 

But I think I've figured out that this is how I'm good to myself.  This is how I'm comforting.  Loud music, physical exhaustion, that works for me.  It may not be gentle, but it's its own unique brand of kind, I guess.  And, hey, I'm feeling better now.  Not 100% -- I didn't get the job, after all -- but at least I'm not so down anymore.

My Moment of Weakness, a Brain Dump, and My Quest to Save the World

Let's get one thing on the record before I go any further: I've never once regretted my decision to quit my job last year.  Eight months later -- and still jobless -- I feel the same way.  I guess that's saying a lot about me, about the job, about my growth these past months.

But that doesn't mean I don't have my bad days, my low moments, those hours where I want to throw something at the wall because our economy is so bad and I'm worried I'm being too picky and I'm frustrated that I can't pay my bills on my own and I'm not saving or paying down my debt and any number of reasons.  I feel that way.  All the time.

It's the discouragement that's the worst.  And, okay, the embarrassment too.  I'm tired of telling people I'm still looking for work, tired of trying to explain that yes, I went to law school, and no, I'm not trying to be a lawyer.  And I'm tired of getting my hopes up that one of these contacts will pan out, that the networking I'm doing (which, if you know me, you realize is definitely not the easiest thing in the world for someone as shy as I am) will eventually lead to a great job at a great organization with a great paycheck and an even better cause.

But I keep at it, because that's what it takes, I guess. 

And that's how I find myself sitting here on a Monday morning, trying to organize my thoughts so that I can better articulate what it is I want to do with my life.

I want to protect wild places and preserve our earth for seven generations to come.
I want to travel the world learning about other cultures, fighting for human rights, and protecting the planet.
I want to get my hands dirty.
I want to ensure that our world's most vulnerable species are safe.
I want to work on environmental justice campaigns.
I want to make a difference.
I want to support grassroots Indigenous leaders and organizations.
I want to ensure that Big Ag and Big Oil aren't allowed to poison our food supply or planet anymore.
I want to help our underrepresented youth get out into the wide world on eco-travel and service trips.

I want to save the world.  Is that too much to ask?

And yes, I want to write teen fiction too.  But I can do that between my stints as -- apparently -- Super Woman.

I know it'll work out and I'll find something that's a fit, something that I love, eventually.  Deep down, I know it.  Still, I worry, and I stress.  I don't have a plan, so I worry and stress.  I don't know where else to look for these jobs, so I worry and stress.  I don't know where to begin, so I worry and stress.  But I know it'll work out...  It has to.

SO, if any of you out there in the interwebs has any leads, any suggestions, any contacts, any anything that you think would be remotely useful in my somewhat idealistic quest to make this world a better place, please let me know.