There is a very particular kind of loneliness that can happen in a house full of people. Your phone is ringing. Somebody needs an answer. You have coworkers to talk to and family to check on, and there is probably a group chat you haven't caught up with since Tuesday. But when you feel like trying that little restaurant you keep passing, you find yourself wondering who you would call. Someone who would come because she enjoys your company, and who wouldn't need you to organize her whole evening before you could enjoy yours.
It can feel uncomfortable to admit that. We look around at the people we love and think, “I have so much. Why do I still feel like something is missing?” But wanting friendship doesn't take anything away from our families. There are parts of us that want company beyond the roles we fill. The woman who likes a good meal, has an opinion about the book she just finished, wants to try something new, or could use a laugh that doesn't begin with explaining why she is so tired.
Our social lives can quietly become organized around our responsibilities. We meet through work, school, church, children, or the people we're partnered with. Those connections can become beautiful friendships. Sometimes, though, they stay centered on whatever brought us together. Then a job changes, the children grow, or our interests begin to stretch, and we realize we have plenty of people to coordinate with but fewer people to simply enjoy life with.
I think it helps to be specific about what we're missing. “I need more friends” can feel like a whole project. “I'd love someone to go to a Saturday class with” gives us somewhere to begin. Maybe you want a friend who enjoys wandering through a bookstore. Maybe you want women you can talk to honestly about this stage of life. Maybe you want company that has nothing to do with being productive. All of those are good reasons to reach toward someone.
One of the gentlest ways to begin is to choose something you can return to. A recurring class, walking group, volunteer gathering, or book discussion gives conversation a chance to become familiar. You don't have to introduce your entire life the first time. You can learn a name, remember a detail, and pick the conversation back up next week. That familiarity gives you a little more to work with than one lovely exchange followed by “We should do this sometime.”
And when you meet someone you enjoy, don't be afraid to extend an invite for something you've been wanting to do. “I'm going to the gallery Saturday around eleven. Would you like to join me?” is easier to answer than “We need to get together.” The invitation can be simple, affordable, and short. Coffee. A walk. Lunch after the activity you're already attending. Friendship doesn't require you to produce an event worthy of a magazine spread.
If she can't come, leave room for her to suggest another time. If you do get together, a little follow-up can carry the warmth forward: “I enjoyed our conversation today. Let me know if you'd like to do it again next month.” Then notice whether she reaches back. We can be open and make an effort without doing all the work for both people. A good connection has room for two women to choose it.
You don't have to arrive at “my people” all at once. Sometimes it begins with one woman who remembers what you said, one invitation that becomes a regular thing, or one afternoon when you get home and realize how good it felt to be yourself. You can love the people already in your life and make room for that feeling. There is nothing ungrateful about wanting a fuller life to share with them.
A CIQ action · In your journal, write down the kind of company you've been missing and teh kind you desire. Within the next week, invite one person into a small experience that fits it. Include the day, place, and what you have in mind. “Would you like to walk with me Sunday morning?” is enough to begin.