Tag: connection

One lone Santa…

This year, I took down the holiday decorations right after Christmas. This is unusual for me, as I revel in the coziness that is created by the festive trees and bows and glitter – even though all the presents have been opened and the cannisters of holiday treats are still out for all to enjoy. Fueled by my trente-sized coffee, I tackled this work, driven by an unseen force to clean the space, sweep the holiday aside, and move on to the new year. In a combination of zeal and precision and sadness, I was mentally saying goodbye to what was and preparing for the year to come.

There is a sadness to stripping my tall Christmas tree of all the beaded branches, bedazzled birds and shiny balls with their misshapen hooks. I normally go through a process of removing branches first, then fragile glass and crystal pieces, etc. until I have only the basic ornaments and ribbon left. The remaining ribbon, drooping and scattered around the base, having been pried off the top and pulled towards the bottom, rests in a mess I can wrangle as I attempt to roll it in a manageable spiral. As I tread in circles around the tree, I feel like the frustrated person banging their head against the wall….round and round I go – where I stop, no one knows. It mirrors my mood of the deflating balloon, and when the tree is completely empty, it is as lifeless as I feel.

This empty tree parallels my mood. Not more than a month or so ago, I fluffed and hung every bit of sparkle and ornamental memory of days gone by to display for all to see. The tiny lights added a glow to every moment, making me feel optimistic about my life and humbly grateful that year for what seemed like life worth living. In the glow of my evening tree, I would often whisper to the universe my grateful Thank Yous. Joy was truly in these moments. But now, the halls are no longer decked, and my twinkling reminders to be grateful are gone.

The emptiness between the bustle of Christmas and the ringing in of the New Year is often a time I feel lonely. Who gathers and where during this time can define one’s core family and home base. And those who turn to social media to connect with friends across the miles, this forum can often distort the nature of true friendship, teaching us that because someone sees the details of our life automatically creates a bond with them. It does not. What I have learned, in my midlife, is that friendship requires people reaching out to the other, across the divide, to be a part of each other’s lives, not just be a witness to it. During the holidays, when I make extra effort to strengthen my ties to those I hold dear, I lean too far to reach across this divide. And when I fall, I don’t feel brave, but defeated.

It was in this moment that my bare tree found me, only to share a message I needed to hear. In my melancholy self-reflection, I had found a lone Santa ornament, tucked away among the center branches. Hiding in plain sight, it had blended in with the brown and green twigs that had lost their shiny adornments. Unknowingly, I had regarded my work as done, my tree was bare, and my holiday over. What I found is that it was not necessary to shine a light on the spirit of the season. Finding him only reminded me that even when we cannot see what may be right in front of us, we are never truly alone.

The fabric of friendship

When I was a child, making friends was as simple as telling the other your favorite color, food, and favorite television show. If you had things in common, you became friends. There was no complexity to the genuine nature of being a child. You were guaranteed a friend to play with a recess and someone who would come to your birthday party. No drama or politics to consider. You would share the latest events that took place over the weekend with your family. For me, it was stories like the one from a second grade friend about obtaining strawberry flavored lipstick, and the subsequent heartache when another friend tried to eat it. I have often wondered how life could be if adult friendships could be just as simple. We could have pre-printed business cards with our favorite food, favorite color, and a picture of us in our favorite outfit on a good hair day. No fuss, no frills and a friendship could be made.

Of course, life goes on and friendships become more complicated. Making time for important people is more difficult as work demands our time and children demand our attention. As adults, we engage in screening the people in our lives to ensure they match our values and our schedules. It is not surprising that quality friendships became difficult to develop and keep. At times when my nerves were frayed and my life unraveling, I often didn’t have the network of supportive friends I had also hoped to have a young professional and mother. As an introvert, it was lonely. Weaving the intricacies of a fulfilling and authentic life seemed to be more difficult without connection of kinship.

Considering this point caused me to step back and really think about what this blog was going to be about. It was difficult to focus on the point in writing this piece. Close and lasting friendships were difficult in my younger life and the lessons from that chapter in my life gave me lots to consider. What was it that I was trying to say? What did I really need to learn from this process? Nowadays with social media, many define friendships by connections – perhaps an electronic version of what we knew as children. I had plenty of those, connections I had made over the years. But how many of them would reach out regularly? Who would be there if you needed them? I have family and friends who are really looking at their networks, only to discover that it is still possible to be lonely in the midst of hundreds of “friends”.

It was only in my later life that I was able to appreciate how my life had become stronger with friendships that have lasted me for years. Not the casual acquaintances that are good for a chat at a local bar every once in a while, but true and deep friendships. Friends who wanted to add me to their lives and play a part in mine. Some friends developed into and remained friends, other wonderful people came and went. Some I had to let go of because I was hanging onto them for the wrong reasons. Good people come and go in every life, but a good friendship requires more that can’t be forced. Aspects like genuine interest, respect, timing of one’s life journey. My friends’ lives didn’t always match mine. Some were married and some were not. Some had children and some did not. Even now, I understand that that weaving these friendships in to my life was a difficult but worthwhile effort. The color they brought into an ordinary life made me an even better person that I could have been alone. As my midlife unfolds and I continue my focus on the moment, I can only look forward to weaving more threads into my fabric of friendship.