I've heard other women in midlife mention this feeling, which I'd describe as a vague homesickness for something we can't put our fingers on. For one colleague, having an empty nest precipitated this mood but it isn't the whole picture. For some, divorce or losing a job might be the trigger. There are all kinds of life events and conditions that contribute to a feeling of not being fully connected.
However, it seems to me that one of the most overlooked & underestimated conditions is something I'd call friendship deficit. My husband tells me that Boomer men are prone to friendship deficit because they rely so heavily on wives or partners for emotional connection. I've met a lot of women with friendship deficits, although in their cases it's because they spent so much time caring for others that their emotional gas tank is dry by the end of the day.
For most of my life, from around age 10 on, I'd had an abundance of friends. These included friends with whom I could talk about anything, sounding-board friends, good-time friends, co-adventurers, and usually several groups or circles that revolved around an activity such as a book club or choir. Even after having a baby at 32, I proved to myself that all the dire predictions I'd read in women's magazines and parenting books were wrong - having kids didn't mean everything else would shrivel up and blow away. Like other parents in our various groups, my husband & I just strapped on the baby carrier and carried on.
But 18 years later, shortly after my son Noel left home to attend an apprenticeship program, other changes began. Two friends I'd seen regularly for a decade both moved to different states within months of each other. Several coworker friends left for new jobs, which really changed the tone of the workplace for me. Over the following year, two friends went back to school, one was given custody of a grandchild, and a few more friends simply dropped out of sight. I felt like a space shuttle shedding parts left and right as it hurls towards space.
Things came to a head last summer when two groups I'd belonged to for 12-13 years dissolved within several months of each other. These weren't the sort of passion-infested breakups for which rock bands are famous; they were gentle fade-outs caused by geographic moves, schedule changes and simple loss of interest. But when September rolled around without a fresh schedule of meetups and practices to look forward to, I realized how empty the year was looking.
I'd been used to having a fairly lively social round (Tom tells me that I used to complain about the busyness every December), so at first I made the same mistake that zillions of newly-single make: I ran here and there, trying out new book groups, photography or gardening clubs, community ed classes & volunteer gigs in an effort to find something that would fill the gap. In hindsight, I think I was a little frantic. Everyone I met was nice but I didn't find a new flock of kindred spirits.
Only within the last month did I realize that I've been given the opportunity to press Pause, think about what what I'm really looking for in friendships now that i'm older, and make deliberate choices rather than desperate ones. I've finally faced the fact that certain relationships have been so high-maintenance that it's questionable whether they could honestly be called friendships. A few friendships were still breathing only because I'd kept them on life support myself by sending a "Hello-o-o-o! You still there?" email once in a while. Is it really a friendship if the friend needs constant prodding, seems unable to initiate anything or doesn't call unless she wants a favor? Is it a friendship if this person makes me feel more like a mom than a companion?
How do you find friends, anyway? Are reciprocal relationships really possible in a culture that encourages self-absorption? Are there any 50-something women who aren't so snowed under by the demands of jobs, family & aging parents that they don't have the energy for anything else? Is it inevitable that our personal worlds shrink as we age, as some writers claim?
Uncomfortable questions...but like pruning shears, they may be the tools I'll need to weed away dead foliage and make room for new growth, in a garden that makes it possible to get back home.
