The Quagmire of Friendship

   I mull things over a lot while I'm cooking and folding laundry. Most often I think, "I should organize these things and blog this." But my hands are busy and full doing mom life, and by the time I can sit down at the laptop these magical sorted thoughts are gone. This happens at least twice a week. People who really get to know me often tell me I should write a book. In theory that sounds nice, but would I have to type more than a page every six months? Maybe when I'm retired. Whoa. I'm planning on my retirement already. I am getting old. REALITY CHECK! 
   One such mulling session recently I left my pans on the stove, walked back to my husband's office and said, "I know I'm likely just dealing with stuff and feeling all 'woe is me,' but I realized that aside from you all that live in the house with me, if I dropped off the face of the planet there are exactly two people I know would notice in a matter of days. Most people wouldn't notice at all until I didn't show up for my scheduled time to do something for them." He turned and looked at me with an honestly contemplative face and said, "I can't disagree with that, Babe. I'm sorry." Yep. It's another, 'I struggle with friendships,' blog from me. Nope. I haven't gotten any better. It's such a huge struggle for me. I had a pretty atypical childhood and teen years, and frankly, I'm not convinced it's not me. Four years ago when we moved to Virginia I met so many wonderful people. It was refreshing. I was used to being so isolated. I had one friend locally who was very near and dear(and she had to up and move to the Midwest, darnit!), but whenever I would try to pursue friendships beyond commenting on each others' Facebook and Instagram ditties, or exchanging hugs and pleasantries at church, it never went any further. It was like every woman I met and pursued a real relationship with politely said, "You're sweet, but my friend bank is full, thanks. See you on Sunday, Love!"
    I went to my fellow introverts, my people who get me and asked. They said not to wait for an invitation, just get involved. So I got involved. I thrust myself into the group events that were open to me, the Mom's Night Out events that didn't conflict with my husband's schedule. Heck, one time I needed to get out so badly that when one came along and he had a prior commitment I coughed up the money, did the footwork, and got a babysitter for a couple hours. See? I do want to leave my house sometimes.
   When a year of that didn't help, I decided to start making the fun. I set up play dates. I chose parks and places that I had to drive 30 minutes for but were central to others. Out of easily twenty times over the last three years, do you know how many times other moms showed up? Twice. Is there something about these parks I don't know? I know I'm a northerner. Do I pick bad parks? 
   All the while I kept pushing forward with the being involved. I started volunteering, serving, anything. I wanted to be connected beyond a sweet smile and a wave one day a week, so surely serving others could help. After all, I LOVE serving. Truly, my job title I am professional trained and highly skilled at means 'A woman who serves.' It's in every fiber of my soul. It fills my cup to serve others, whether it be meal trains, teaching Sunday school, clean up after church events, organizing fundraisers- I truly enjoy it. Seemed like a win-win! Unfortunately, serving also means peopling and we all know I am not great at that. The serving I love. The peopling I fail. Eventually I do some not to perfection and I'm told, 'Aaah, yeah, that's not right and you made the rest of us look bad, too.' CRAP! Or I start being used. People don't show up for teaching shifts and I cannot leave the children without a teacher, so sure, I'll stay for a second service again. And again. And again. Hey complete stranger with many mutual Facebook friends. You need help with this event? Sure, I can do that. Oh, So-and-So told you to ask me to help because I never say no to anything? Golly, that doesn't make me feel used AT ALL. I could go on with constant examples, but that just makes me sound bitter. 
   I'm not asking for all-day texting or weekly 1-on-1 time. But maybe an invite to your baby shower? Notice that I am a nice enough person that you allow me to spend money on you and celebrate you and yours! Social media makes all this worse. Not only is the internal FOMO tough at times, but when I see the steady stream of pictures from multiple friends together at birthday parties, play dates, mom nights, coffee dates, park play dates, and so much more, and I've never once been invited to such a thing- Do I smell? Am I that terribly awkward? It's because I have a bazillion kids, isn't it. We bathe, I promise, and we really don't eat much. Do we ever cross your mind for an invite list? I see all our mutual friends together, we all know each other from the same places, our kids are all the same ages.... It's because we homeschool, isn't it? We're not too weird,  but I cannot promise my 9-year-old won't plague you with facts about dinosaurs and Greek mythology, my 7-year-old is obsessed with pugs, and my 4-year-old will probably talk about poop at some point. And I promise, we bathe. Note to self: post more 'cute sudsy kids in the tub' pics on Instagram to reassure people.
   I was recently discussing all this with my younger sister. She said she thinks it's because people see me as Superwoman. They are probably intimidated by all I do and feel inferior or else cannot fathom I have time for such things in my life. She said people probably don't realize how alone, isolated, and "uninvited" to everything I am. Maybe, but I cannot fathom anyone seeing me that way. I'm just me, doing what needs doing to the best of my ability and wishing for a little connection. Let me be clear. I have a couple of very dear friends in my life, but I have the misfortune of living 500-800 miles away from them, and there's just something about being included in and welcomed into doing life with the people physically around you that I crave. I do have wonderful women around me who are so sweet and genuine when we happen to be in the same place at the same time, and I thoroughly enjoy them, but it often ends there. Let's have a coffee date. Yes, lets! :doesn't return my texts: Let's get the families together some time. You all can come over for dinner! Let me know when it works for your husband's schedule. Okay, definitely! :never replies again:
   So I mull these things over, usually in a process of sadness not unlike Elizabeth Kubler Ross's stages of grief: it start with Surprise. Oh! I had no idea they were getting together/doing this/having this party for her. Then hurt. I know every woman there. We chat every week. Why didn't they think of  me? Followed by insecurity. It's because I'm so awkward. I do my best to tuck it in, but I can't hide it for long. I'm ridiculous. Nobody wants to be seen in public with me. Then indignation. What's a girl gotta' do to stick in peoples' heads as some one worthy of friendship?! I'm worth it, by golly! And lastly, reasoning, a little more self-deprecation, and acceptance(until the next Instagram post). Maybe this season of my life isn't for friendship. I can't keep the house clean, I'm still overweight, and I could totally be homeschooling better than I do. I need to cut the frivolous desire for deeper friendship, buckle down and do better RIGHT HERE, at home. Part of the latter is all true. I do have areas of improvement at home I need to hone in on, but every once in a while I DO wish I was on peoples' radars as some one they'd like to know better, too. I often wonder in this society of attachment to our devices, are we all feeling a little like this? Are we all so disconnected and yearning? Are the social media posts of the few times we do connect posted to remind ourselves that we do have some connection at times?

Oh wow. I blogged something. WOOHOO! There's another swirling in my head. Let's pretend I'll get it out before another six month passes.