Finding new friends in your 40s is a fickle business

when moving messes with your social life

I write essays unpacking a bit of life’s baggage. Support this newsletter by subscribing. To protect my mental peace, I’ve halted using social media to share my work. If one of my essay topics speaks to you or reminds you of someone you know, share it with that person. Then call them because it’s nice to hear your friend’s voice. And don’t talk about politics! ❤️📞

red rover red rover

I recently met with my “book” club. Quotations because our success rate for reading the assigned book is at 30%. And when we meet, we talk a whole lot about everything — besides the book. That’s how book clubs operate, right? :)

My book club includes 3 other women I’ve known for a long time. Our kids have gone to the same schools for years. Half of us moved on from the school and, with our crazy schedules, we somehow manage to get together (of course, after rescheduling 5x).

When I made the decision to move schools, I worried about leaving its strong community — all the friendships I’ve cultivated over many years. I’ve known lots of these moms since my 10-year-old was 2. My biggest fear was the hardship of starting over.

Now, my life has gone in a different path, literally. The new school is located in the opposite direction and I’ve spent my time in a new area with new people. My kids had a seamless transition, love their teachers, and made new friends.

Meanwhile, three months in, my personal fear stands on my doorstep.

Loneliness has arrived, and it’s come knocking.

I didn’t lose my friends but I see them less than I’d like and I don’t think I quite understood how lonesome some days would be, especially as I’ve been spending more time in my car with the farther commute.

At the old school, there was a sense of safety with the familiarity of seeing the same faces, like walking into the bar in Cheers, where everybody knows your name.

Now, I see new faces and I feel like a stranger. Everyone at the new spot has been friendly. But it’s not the same. And I know it’s not supposed to be the same. I know friendships take time, like a seedling takes years to grow to a wise old oak tree.

But screw the slowpoke plants. I’ve been impatient.

There are many women at my new school who are nice, and cool, and fun to be around. They have known each other a long time and have established circles, the same way I’ve made friends at my old stomping grounds so I can’t expect to jump into deep companionship right away. Yet, why am I itching for it?

Sometimes, in my more lonely days, I want to scream from the parking lot, “hey everyone! I’m nice, and cool, and fun to be around, I swear! Hang out with me!”

On multiple occasions I’ve given myself a mental pep talk to gain the courage to talk to a group of moms. No one booted me out of the conversation but I felt like I was socially floundering, said dumb things in attempt to be witty. I walked away, regretted words I said aloud, tail between my legs, and hoped no one noticed.

When I insert myself in a group conversation, it’s as though I’m trying to barge through linked arms in a game of Red Rover Red Rover, with my ego clotheslined.

Clearly, my fixation on finding new friends hasn’t been the way I envisioned.

Everyone has been nice and I can see the potential for friendships down the road. So why am I wanting it so badly right now?

As I sat with my friends at book club, they reminded me about how much time it took for us to build our friendships. I knew these women for many years, and we were friendly for a long time, but the strength of our friendships only flourished in the last year or two.

We all have various levels of friendships.

For example, there’s the friendly face we love to catch up with and admire who they are but don’t hang out. Then there’s close friends we see every few months and our designated time together can fill our cup much more than seeing the same acquaintance we have no chemistry with, every single day.

One of my friends said, in this time of her life, she’s put a cap on making new friends because her life is too full for any more. That seemed liberating and made me question my motives.

Is mine too full?

I’m in friendship limbo.

Currently, I’ve been debating if I want more friends and if I have room for more friends. I arrive at this conclusion when I think of how exhausting it can be to put yourself out there and make the time and effort to build friendship. But then I turn around and notice I yearn for new ones in my new community.

Is it so bad that I want hoes in different area codes?!

I must ground myself though because, right now, I’m not going to have the same level of friendship with new people like the ones that took me years to establish.

The cognitive dissonance is dizzying.

Making friends in your 40s is hard because time is so limited, with the mountain of responsibilities we carry on a daily basis. I know more isn’t more. But if there’s potential for a relationship with more depth at my new school, heck yeah I’d be open to it. After all, I hate small talk and that’s what I’ve had to endure the past few months.

In the meantime, I’ve decided to make more time to connect with my old friends while I wait and see how things pan out with folks at the new school.

In other words, I need to chill. And be myself. Good things are worth the wait so I will (try to) watch things happen naturally.

It’s like the lead gal finding the perfect boyfriend in a romance movie. She may not find the one when she’s thirsty and looking. But who knows, if she’s just acts herself, that amazing relationship may arrive — and come knocking — when she least expects it.