Outgrowing friendships
Friendships post-Instagram, post-empty nest, and the liminal time that is summer.
The most liminal summer of all
A few weeks ago while walking to the library, I heard my 17 year old quietly say, “It’s weird that I’m probably never going to see some of these people ever again.” She was referring to her close high school group of friends. As a child whose sentimental personality is most like mine, I knew she was cycling through a confusing mix of emotions about her high school days ending and the reality of it all was making her sad. I could see it on her face right then.
I told her about the concept of anticipatory nostalgia and that she was prematurely mourning the loss of her friends when it hasn’t even happened yet. She is often the person who organizes and rallies everyone together—there’s always one or two like that in a friend group—and her face wore the expression of resolved acceptance that it would quietly fall apart after this summer. I pointed out that keeping in touch, if that’s what she wanted, was in her control and to stay grounded in the present with the time that she still had left with them.
Statistically, however, her angsty anticipation of the future will probably be true. I’ve witnessed my older child lose touch with most of her high school friends once she went off to college two years ago. I myself have only one childhood friend that I remain in touch with very sporadically, but I’m not connected to any others even passively on social media.
I still remember meeting up with a high school friend of mine a few months into my first year of college and feeling in the pit of my stomach what I was afraid to be true: I had outgrown this friendship. I had changed, he had too, and our lives were no longer drawing parallel paths that often intersected. I was nervously hoping that he felt it as well.
How is it that certain friends can suddenly disappear from our everyday lives in a blink? And it’s often not one particular thing or a blowup that instigates this change, but rather life and its continued state of flux and circumstance that drives this revolving door of friendships that cycle through our lives.
As I watch my kid download photos that she took with her camera of herself with her friends after a fun Saturday in the park, I see that she is trying to imprint memories while she can. After inheriting an older digital camera (because teens today are obsessed with retro gadgets), she’s been taking it with her everywhere. She declared just today that the camera was one of the best things to happen to her in awhile. I brace myself for the emotional upheaval that will come in waves the next two months as we enter into this liminal time that is the summer between high school and college. I imagine there will be hundreds more photos downloaded before then: senior activities, time in the park spent with friends after school, the prom, graduation.
I fell apart spectacularly that summer before college when I was her age; I don’t wish the same for my child. I will do what I can to ensure that it doesn't, but it’s also not entirely in my control. She thanks me in her recent birthday card for raising her right and to have faith in her that she will be okay on her own. She knows I worry. I remind myself that while she is so much like me, she is not me.
Friendships post-Instagram, post-kids
After I wrote this newsletter on the friendship recession six months ago, I went on a bit of a binge meeting new people that I had only known online for real-life coffee dates. I’ve made some true and lasting friendships through social media this way in the past. It takes a leap of faith, some vulnerability, and trust in your instincts when an online friend crosses over to a real-life one. Sometimes the first meeting can be awkward and you’ll know if it wasn’t meant to be, but that’s where the vulnerability comes in. It’s based on a feeling, an energy, a hunch. You have to put yourself out there to even find that out.
It’s also been two months since I’ve stopped posting on Instagram and the most un(surprising) thing about it is that I haven’t really missed it at all. I had thought I’d check in periodically to see updates from friends, but what I’ve been doing instead is sending texts and meeting people in-person whenever possible. This has made my social world feel a lot smaller, perhaps back to the way things used to be before we had connections to hundreds of people at our fingertips.
Social media and tech may have made it easier to stay in touch with all those connections, but it also encourages us to post curated images of our lives to everyone, even our closest friends. That in itself feels increasingly strange because true friendship isn’t about the carefully crafted stories. Maybe that why it’s easy to collect and keep followers, acquaintances, and connections for years past any natural friendship expiration date. Our lives online isn’t the complete picture.
If the average lifespan of a friendship is seven years, I wonder what makes one last longer than the average. I think about the few friendships that have endured over the last decade or two, but I can’t exactly say why they’ve stayed intact.
Maybe it’s some sort of collective will of the minds that compels us to fight against the friendship drift that can easily settle in if two people aren’t putting the same energy in. I’m sure it also has to do with the comfort and trust that’s earned when you’re able to reach for the phone and text random thoughts to each other at any given time. You can’t do that with just anyone, especially when so much tone can be misinterpreted in texts. When you do find these people, you know to hang onto them because it’s gold.
As I continue to witness my youngest child navigate through friendship transitions as she moves from high school adolescence to college adulthood, I’m keenly aware that I’ll be entering a new phase of friendships myself. We spend so much of our time and energy as parents on family life, sometimes at the expense of other relationships in our lives. When we finally find ourselves in that empty nest, a new space opens up for us to refocus on our friendships. Friends, in this phase of life, feels more important than ever.
This week’s drawing
Only I would turn a vivid and colorful reference photo of flowers that I photographed into a moody black and white drawing.
A few things I loved this week
Declutter, Haul, Restock, Repeat The content creators making a living by cleaning — one purse tower, acrylic plastic box, and egg organizer at a time. (The Cut)
Is this my new aspirational career? I am a champion at organizing!3 Body Problem (Netflix)
I got this recommendation for this new Netflix series through a client at a meeting of all places. It’s cerebral and weird and I binged the whole thing in two days.
‘Loud Budgeting’ Is the Latest TikTok Trend for Saving Money (Bloomberg, may be paywalled). Alternatively, here is a non-paywalled article that explains what it is: What Is Loud Budgeting? (Ellevest)
Addictive Izakaya Style Salted Cabbage (sudachi)
And speaking of loud budgeting, rather than a dinner out for my birthday last week, I requested to stay in. Luckily, I live with a former chef and Mark surprised me with this, including this addictive cabbage side dish that is well…addictive.
I think chance plays a part in lasting friendship, to be honest. I have known a friend for almost 20 years, of course we have common points, we like each other, and I am grateful for her support in hard times but would we have kept in touch if we were not living in the same city? Not sure. Which doesn't make it less valuable of a relationship.
I've also found that friendships come and go, and sometimes go back. Its not always easy to accept it, I have lost friends because I was too hurt to accept a (maybe temporary) exit - and others I have kept because I lived with it. Again, chance.
PS your daughter sounds like she has a much better awareness of relationships than me at her age ;-)
Honest and moving. I am in a different stage of motherhood (mine are 3 and 1), and this resonated with me just the same. (And those summer-before-college feelings came rushing right back as I read your words. What a time that was!)