Friends In Midlife
Friends made in midlife are different. They’re not like those made in your childhood where you became besties after ten minutes at a lunch table. They’re not like the ones in college where you confide some of your deepest fears and secrets over a bag of chips at 2 a.m. either. And they’re not like the fellow moms you bumped into at the playgroups where your kids became friends so by default, you too became friends.
I suck at making new friends. At least I think I do. I hate big parties, even though I go to them and try to throw a few just to feel social once in a while. I also hate “faking” it, and if you ask anyone that’s known me for any length of time, they’ll agree. I’ll either wear a resting bitch face or one that reeks a painful attempt at giving a shit.
Most of my closest and longest loved friends are scattered throughout the four corners of the country. Some I’ve known since elementary and high school. A few I met in college. And the rest I’ve made while transplanting to different cities and states. Still, not having a friend nearby often tugs at my loneliness, and I get this inspiration to try and make a new one.
In midlife, it’s not so simple to strike up random conversations.
Except in midlife, it’s hard. Really hard. After college I worked 9-5s for a time and had more access to adults and a variety of personalities. And even when the kids were younger and I met other moms at the same phase of their parenthood, though often many different ages, felt comforting and inviting even.
But in midlife, it’s not so simple to strike up random conversations.
“How’s your menopause coming along?”
“Do you get night sweats too?”
“What are your signs of a midlife crisis?
Sometimes I force it though. I see a woman with a mane of gray that is screaming to be noticed and I say, “Hey, LOVE your hair!” Or I compliment an outfit or make chit chat - I hate doing that, but anxiety threatens to make things worse if I don’t fill the silence.
What usually results is a few casual exchanges and maybe even a “let’s get together sometime” that rarely materializes. Even when I’m the one making all the effort in setting something up.
I’ve tried to make sense of why this is - women having midlife friendship problems. Some noted reasons make sense:
falling out of friendship
people change
financial disparities
differing energy levels
growing children
But others, to me, make no sense at all.
midlife cliques
have “enough” friends already
too busy
Who the hell joins a “clique” at midlife? Shouldn’t that have been left at the middle school play ground?
How many friends are considered “enough” or “too many?” Does the same apply to love? Bet those same claimers wouldn’t say that about money.
You either have time or you make time. Rarely is the excuse applicable.
And as I’m learning, there are still women out there who aren’t fans of other wise and empowering midlife women - even if they fall into that category themselves.
But midlife friends are essential. At least that’s what’s said for people between 45 and 65 to stay healthy and engaged. Even though it’s also considered the loneliest segment of your life.
“Midlife is when you finally realize that you shouldn’t have to chase true friendship.”
I’ve reviewed my current friends. I have a couple loyal best friends, a fearless adventurer, a brutally honest confidant, a wise mentor, a friend from a different culture (okay, several there too), a polar opposite, a friendly neighbor, and most recently, a work pal. All of these are great and a few are entering midlife too.
But the hard part, for me anyway, is finding that one that’s right there in the thick of midlife and lives down the street. I know. It’s selfish. But I used to have one - my polar opposite gal-pal - that would meet me by the lake at 4am and take 90 minute power walks just to stay sane and get out of the house. She’s in Michigan now. And about 6 years my junior - not quite at her perimenopausal starting gate just yet.
Maybe it’s those damn movies - the ones that show women who’ve been together through highs and lows and live just blocks apart. Their like sisters, they bicker and jab, but they’re always there. A hug and a tear apart.
I have several lady-friends that I’d call my sisters - shit, they’ve been through many parts of my life I don’t think I could have survived without ‘em - but now, only one lives in driving range. And as much as I love and adore her, she’s only 30, doesn’t have any kids yet, and is already talking of moving to the east coast.
Without geography you’re nowhere, but your heart has its own - where it prefers to be.
It’s hard feeling that lonely punch to the gut whenever I see a group of ladies - at any age, but particularly the midlifers - out and about. I want that. My sisters communing nearby and making the third Thursday of the month not a priority but a necessity - like air and water. But that’s just not how it is. Geography and life says its not meant to be. At least not now or not at all at once.
So I started tapping into my social media outlets. It’s really not my thing - for the longest time I’ve felt like “making friends” online was about as genuine as “making friends” at a sorority - fake, fabricated, and totally fucked up. Yet, I couldn’t scratch the itch to find other women out there. Women like me, at midlife and wrestling with same things day-in and day-out.
“Friendship isn’t about who you’ve known the longest. It’s about who walked into your life, said, ‘I’m here for you’ and proved it.”
And it seemed as though the minute I put that energy into the Universe - the moment I said,
“Fuck it. I’ll take any friend, from anywhere in the world, and at any stage of midlife, so long as she’s genuine.”
My dm file started filling up. Missy Farrow from Midlife Margaritas, Marcia Kester Doyle from Menopausal Mother, Stella Fosse, K.E. Garland from Navigating The Change, Wendy McGee from the fitness app Fit Fannie, and many others started reaching out just to say, “I’m here!” and “You got this!”
At first I didn’t believe it. It felt like an MLM scheme was lurking behind someones all too thoughtful note. But then, I started getting personal emails. A phone call. A referral to another blogger-friend. And for the first time I can actually feel the energy of all of my friends - all of the ladies that have been in my life for short or long stretches - coming together in a spiritual circle. As if to remind me, this is what a sisterhood really is: a spiritual circle more than a physical one.
It’s still hard though. Making friends at midlife when I’m at the store or see a group laughing loudly with a bottle of vino and several shades of gray between them. Maybe one of these days I’ll have the funds and space to host that retreat I’ve been talking about. Maybe we’ll bolt the doors and have a grown-woman sleepover with too many giggles to remember what we’re laughing at.
Until then, I’ll take any friend, from anywhere, and at any stage of midlife. So long as she’s genuine.
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