Sometimes I Want

I've suddenly come to an understanding about something I've been struggling with for a while. All my life I've wanted to be friends with certain kinds of people...I don't mean just friendly acquaintances...I mean deep, genuine, significant, kindred spirit type friends. More often than not, however, these people are not the ones who want to be friends with me. Instead, I find myself surrounded by a different kind of people who want that connection with me.

I think it's a matter of perspective. I want to be with those other people because they seem to me to be what I wish my life to be and maybe if I could bond with them, I could become like them and have their kind of life, instead of my own. The thing is, I'm not like them and I'm pretty sure that if by some strange twist of reality I were invited into their circle, their lifestyle, I would feel terribly uncomfortable. I would feel the need to suppress the real me in order to "fit in" instead of giving myself the liberty to just be me.

So, I'm going to try something new, instead of wishing for the seemingly greener turf on the other side, I'm going to pay more attention to cultivating my own lawn and see what grows.

It's not necessary for me to be best friends with everyone in the world. It's not necessary for me to hold on to people, fearing that if I let them go, they'll disappear and my life will be less than it was when they were around. Sometimes people leave and the loss does leave a void, but if I mourn too long over the empty place, I won't see and appreciate the new friends who come to fill in the space.

Last semester in my Adult Development class we read Tuesdays With Morrie and we watched his spots on Nightline. He told a story about two waves. Both waves were having a great time until the one wave realized he was going to crash into the beach. He asked the other wave how she could be so happy and excited as she rushed toward the shore, knowing she was about to crash and be obliterated on the sand. Her response was that she was not just a solitary wave, she was part of the vast Ocean. When she crashed, she may cease to be a wave, but she would continue to be part of something bigger.

I've been thinking a lot about the shifting tides of friendship and social groups. I've been part of various social groups over the years and every time one crashes into the inevitable shore, I react a little more like the first wave, apprehensive about what the destruction will mean. But every time, I am washed back into the whole and swirled into a new wave. The rise and fall are natural parts of life. I can't stop the shifting of society any more than I can keep a wave from crashing into the beach. But I can adopt the attitude of the second wave: enjoy the ride and be flexible, knowing that with every crash, comes the possibility for some new and exciting adventure. I'm still part of the whole, I'm still an active member of humanity, but I'm also always in motion. And motion is the way of progress.

Last night I had to work so I couldn't go with my ward to the Carl Bloch exhibit at BYU. I was okay with missing out until I got a text from Gonzo asking me to give him a ride. He's never really asked me for much of anything and I was disappointed that I couldn't fill his wish. Besides the missed opportunity to serve a friend, it was also a lost a chance to spend a recently rare one on one moment with him. I'm not sure why I feel so strongly the need for these one on one moments right now, I guess I'm working on reconnecting with people. There are plenty of people who want to connect with me, I just haven't been open to it. I've been afraid.

The disappointment lasted only a few seconds last night; I was in a positive attitude and realized that it wasn't really a missed opportunity, it was an encouragement and premonition of possibility. So, instead of moping and getting all depressed, I made plans with The Artist (whose hopes for the evening had also been crushed). We went to Barnes & Noble, then to dinner. We had a nice chat and he helped me see things a little better. I've been afraid of connections, even friendships with guys; I'm awkward and unnatural and terrified to let any of them get close. I shoot them down before they even have a chance to think about liking me. No more. The Artist reminded me that just because I've been hurt by guys in the past doesn't mean that every guy is going to hurt me. I'm opening myself up. It's been long enough and I need to get myself back out there. So I'm changing my attitude and my approach to men with the hope that good things are finally coming my way!