Letting joy in - Redefining Friendships in my 30s
Day 1 - Morning musings
Like many women I have had to confront the reality of friendships in my 30’s, it just isn’t as easy as making friends in your teens or 20’s. We have responsibilities, families and many of us have already formed groups. People we have known since childhood, university or our early working days. I however am not one of these people. I am a women in her mid 30’s without a group and with that comes challenges. One which I faced the other day.
It started when my partner Ben asked me a simple question that sent me into a spiral: Do you want a baby blessing? This simple and thoughtful question, which should have invoked joy, sent me spiralling into anxiety. I would help but wonder Who would come?
A friend of mine recently had a baby blessing surrounded by a circle of friends she’s known since her teens—a close-knit group that regularly gather to celebrate. It’s hard not to compare when you see someone with the kind of community you wish you had. I know comparison is the thief of joy, but it’s difficult to ignore when you’re faced with what you feel you might lack.
Not that long ago, I had a vibrant group of friends. We traveled together, celebrated birthdays, events and spent most weekends together. This group was a blessing in my late twenties and early thirties. But over time, life took its course, and the group began to drift apart. Friendships unraveled, and the close-knit bond we once had started to fade. The glue that held us together started to fade and instead of a group we became individual people who would see each other or check in from time to time.
Having lived in several countries, forming a solid group of friends was a new experience for me. I’ve always had wonderful friends scattered around the globe, but it wasn’t until my late twenties that I experienced the closeness of a group. Realising that this group is no longer intact hit me hard, especially when Ben’s question made me confront this reality.
Don’t get me wrong, I have amazing friends, most who don’t know each other, and I love them dearly, but without the cohesion of a group, my mind tries to tell me that I cannot have a celebration. That those individual people would not come. That because I no longer have a group unit, I am somehow unworthy of being celebrated. I have always had a difficult time allowing myself to be celebrated. It is one of the things I have been consciously trying to change. I, like everyone else, deserve to be celebrated, and that celebration doesn’t need to be based on numbers. The level of joy I allow myself to experience doesn’t need to be justified by the number of people who validate that joy yet this simple question has surfaced all my fears.
Ben has been my biggest teacher when it comes to the art of joy. He has the ability to see joy in everything. It is only through our relationship that I have realised how quick I am to diminish joy, instead keeping myself at a neutral place. As if not allowing joy to penetrate me will somehow keep me safe from disappointment, when really all it has been doing is keeping me from living in celebration. I often watch him, immersed in his joy, and feel jealous, but then I remind myself that I can participate in his joy at any moment. When I let my guard down and allow myself to go there, nothing feels better.
I know this baby blessing is an opportunity for me to let that joy in, but in the moment, I find it so hard to access this level of understanding. Instead, I list the names of people I would want to invite and spend the next 20 minutes giving Ben all the reasons why they wouldn’t come. A few of them will have to make the journey from London to where I live. Despite it only being over an hour on the train, that was enough to convince me they wouldn’t make the journey. Several who live in my area know of each other but aren’t yet friends, which was also enough to make me think they might not come. One of them is due to give birth, so I rule her out. Before I have even given people the opportunity to respond for themselves I am left with two names on my list.
These two names present me with an opportunity: continue to grieve the fact that I am a woman in her thirties without a group or appreciate the fact that even after obliterating the list of friends I have, I still have two names. Two incredibly wonderful people I know would be there. Doesn’t this deserve to be honoured and celebrated?
This lack of a group of friends definitely triggers feelings of not having a community, but what I do have are incredible friends whose friendships have weathered distance and time. Friends I can go six months, or even longer, without speaking to, but who I know will welcome me into their homes with open arms. Friendships that aren’t based on expectation but instead on love. Friends who I can love from afar and who I get to cherish when I can love them up close.
I know that this baby blessing is another way for me to block out joy, to prevent myself from being hurt or disappointed by things that have happened in the past, but I need to remind myself that those things have already happened. The hurt and disappointment I experienced have passed, and I need to stop keeping people out because I am afraid to get hurt again. I don’t need a group of friends to celebrate. I don’t even need one; I just need me. I need to be willing to celebrate again, and if other people want to join in that celebration, I need to let them decide and stop deciding for them. I want to celebrate. I want to love on all these incredible friends I have. This baby blessing isn’t so much about not having a group; it’s about not fully embracing what I have, and what I do have deserves to be celebrated.
It was uncomfortable getting here, and still, a part of me wants to resist having this baby blessing, but I know that nothing changes unless something changes, and this is an opportunity for me to change the story I’ve been holding about friendships in my thirties. I want the baby blessing. I deserve the baby blessing, and if it’s only me there on the day, why can’t I still celebrate the hell out of myself? This is my choice: choose to sit in the pain of what has happened or realise the blessings right in front of me.
I love my friends, and I wouldn’t trade these friendships for the world. So what if it isn’t a cohesive group? How lucky am I to have such incredible people in my life? Some people are lucky enough to have friendship groups; I am lucky enough to have countless incredible friends around the world. I am never lonely because no matter where I am in the world, I am sure to have a friend. This deserves to be celebrated.
I choose to celebrate, and that starts with saying yes to a baby blessing.
