Right now, I'm cozied up beneath my favorite coffee brown blanket, holding back overzealous sneezes and waiting for my spiced chai to finish brewing– a reminder of yesterday's walk in the light drizzle and brisk winds for a spontaneous breakfast gathering.
Dressed casually in an old black knit sweater, camouflage cargo pants, and boots, completely forgetting my leather jacket, with my hair neatly tied in a bun, and a simple gold chain and watch; we met at a nearby diner for our hour-long chat.
We delved into various topics, including spirituality, relationships, dreams, fears, and moments of self-reflection and accountability, all while savoring two plates of hot French toast—one with bacon, the other with sausage—drenched in maple syrup. The air was filled with the comforting aroma of warm hot chocolate, accompanied by soft background music occasionally punctuated by hushed laughter.
In our discussion, what intrigued me the most was our talk about intimacy in relationships, especially when it comes to friendships. If you've been following my journey for a while, you're well aware of my struggles and triumphs in understanding what friendship truly means.
You've been there through the moments of confusion, fear, and aspiration, all detailed openly in these journals. There were times when I believed I was the issue, times when I was certain of it, and times when I realized I wasn't the problem at all – every bit of this emotional rollercoaster is documented here.
“Finding the balance between the depth and quantity of relationships often leads to a solitary, bewildering, and uncomfortable journey.”
Although I've been openly sharing my journey of fostering healthy and emotionally secure friendships in recent weeks, our conversation yesterday revealed a stark contrast. It was disheartening to listen to someone articulate their sense of isolation, even with a contact list teeming with names. They confided that only a handful of those contacts could be relied upon in times of need. This experience underscored a fundamental truth: in relationships, quality far outweighs quantity.
Although not a unique sentiment, it resonates deeply with many, including myself. Finding the balance between the depth and quantity of relationships often leads to a solitary, bewildering, and uncomfortable journey. It prompts introspection, making you assess those you merely know against those who genuinely understand the real you. Reflecting on those who stood by you during your best moments, those who vanished during your worst, and those who remained present through it all adds a new perspective to the situation.
You come to realize the fragility of authentic connections and understand that even some of these can shatter under the weight of misunderstandings or unmet expectations. Sometimes it may be your responsibility, and sometimes it may not, but there will always be moments when you decide to part ways or see others make that choice.
Painful as it is, you recognize that sometimes, separation is for the best. Amid these episodes of heartache and disappointment, you find the strength to examine your own role in these unraveling relationships. You confront moments when your insecurities or unspoken expectations added to the strain. It becomes clear that in your pursuit of authenticity, you also need to offer it in return.
The longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love — whether we call it friendship or family or romance — is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light. Gentle work. Steadfast work. Life-saving work in those moments when life and shame and sorrow occlude our own light from our view, but there is still a clear-eyed loving person to beam it back. In our best moments, we are that person for another.
James Baldwin
In these delicate times, when everything feels so fragile, we could all benefit from an additional genuine friend. So, I extend my wish to all of you. As I emphasize in every other entry, I have mine – real friends. Thanks to them, my perspective on life and relationships has transformed entirely.
I’d entered a phase where many of my changes were significant, yet quietly undertaken, and yet my friends still heard me. This, to me, epitomizes intimacy: a connection that listens to the unspoken words, comprehends silent battles, and embraces the evolving facets of who you are.
“…It's hard to feel heard when you think nobody is listening…”
As an introvert, I know that most of my relationships are embedded with intimacy simply because I can't help but share my true self in quieter, more meaningful ways. Introversion, with its preference for depth over breadth, naturally lends itself to these type of connections. But if you find yourself yearning for more intimate relationships, it begins with being authentic, both in your expressions and your receptivity. It's about finding the courage to peel away the layers and reveal your genuine thoughts and emotions, even if it feels vulnerable.
I know that it's hard to feel heard when you think nobody is listening, so look through your friendships, and invest your time where you find reciprocated understanding. True connections are forged in the silent spaces between spoken words.
Your life is a story, and in the chapters of genuine friendships, you'll find the most authentic and beautiful narratives. So I wish you all the best with that.
Now… my chai is finished, and I need to finish some reading for this bookclub so have a good week. Stay safe.
Best,
S
I loved this: “True connections are forged in the silent spaces between spoken words.”
I find that with those I am most comfortable with, sitting in silence transforms nothingness into something deep. Thanks for the read.