Best Friends: Am I missing out, or does it just feel that way?

Times have been stressful in my life lately, and I finally put my finger on what is making it hard to shed some of that stress. I used to have a best friend, that one point person I could go to whenever I had something really good or really bad happening in my life just to talk it over. It was a mutual thing. He still lives in Kentucky, and although we are still friends, our relationship has changed drastically since I moved.

I no longer feel like I have someone in my life that I can call a best friend in that way. I have friends, but not really a go-to person I rely on. I also don't feel like I am that person for anyone else right now. I miss that, but it has to be organic. It's not like I can decide this or that person is my best friend. It has to just happen, and it just hasn't. Still, I find myself actually being a bit jealous of those that seem to find that relationship with someone else.

I feel like I have separated people in my life into compartments, and in a lot of ways, that has to be a choice I have made, even if a subconscious one. By doing that, though, it means there is no one that really knows me as I am in all of those compartments. I suppose that could be one way of protecting myself from getting hurt by keeping myself distanced from everyone to some extent. Nevertheless, I miss feeling like I can be completely at ease with another person. I guess I want my cake and to eat it, too.

What I ask myself, and you, readers, is whether a best friend is necessary? What purpose exactly is served by having a single best friend? Am I truly missing out, or is it really a double-edged sword?

The anti-joiner

I have to make a confession that will not come as a surprise to many that know me. I am an anti-joiner. I am the opposite of someone I would refer to as a joiner, someone that likes to be a part of trends or big movements or just "the cool kids".

Don't get me wrong. I like to feel like I fit in somewhere, and I like to be amongst friends. However, once a group or movement or whatever gets to a certain size, I stop wanting to be a part of it. I lose interest, and the more I am pushed to join a group, or just do what everyone else is doing, the less likely I am to do so.

I noticed this most recently with my Crossfit group, which is what inspired me to write this. They are planning a trip to Bend next weekend to compete in the Oregon Crossfit Games. There are currently 22+ members of our box going, mostly staying together in one house. I am not going. At this point, I feel very left out, which makes me sad, but also glad I am not going.

This is a confusing set of emotions, but if I think about it, I can lay out emotional process.

1) I get lost in large groups of people. I don't mean I can't figure out where I am geographically. I mean that I tend to become quiet and even more introverted than I normally am. I start to feel isolated, even among friends.

2) I tend to avoid competition, so in a large group of people, I will not compete for attention. This may be a debit in the presence of a lot of extroverts, mostly because I tend not to have my opinion heard in these situations. Then I stew and become more and more irritated that "no one cares what I think".

3) I despise peer pressure, and I despise the thought that I would give in to it. And yet I know I do sometimes. In such cases, I will go along with the group, not having had my voice heard, even if I am miserable. I am never the decision maker in a large group, because I am never the most vocal one. When possible, I will often decide to do my own thing silently, and just become annoyed at everyone else who seems to be following along.

4) Sometimes, not always but definitely sometimes, I just become contrary and ambivalent. I dislike large groups so much that I begin to dislike any decision that is made, regardless of its merit.

I think the main source of all of this mental drama is the fact that I am an introvert. I am introspective and contemplative, and I need to feel like I am making my own decisions, not just being led along by others. To me, that is a weak-minded way to live.

I know some extroverts that cannot understand that being introvert is not a personality disorder. They want to "fix" me by encouraging me to be more like they are. Sometimes I wish I WERE more like them. I would be more gregarious and thrive in the large groups I often end up involved in beyond my control. But at the same time, I kinda like being the black sheep, I suspect. It's way more interesting long term than fitting in.

In the case of this weekend, I think I'll probably feel a special bond with those folks that aren't going. We're all kind of the black sheep. Yeah, that will be my new group until that gets too big or popular.

Thanks for being such a jerk...

This time of year, I usually look back on the previous year or two and think about watershed moments. Sometimes this involves a falling out with someone that includes burned bridges. Usually, I can actually appreciate that I am better off without them after some time has passed. Although even seeing mention of these people can still sting, I realize that I am happier because they are no longer around to crush my self-esteem over and over. This makes me appreciate the event or behavior that caused the falling out.

So here's my question: how can I thank someone for treating me so poorly without being facetious?  I imagine some of my attempts.

"Thanks for being such a dick when I was struggling with depression...it was just what I needed to realize that I didn't need you around."

"I can't thank you enough for being so bitchy that one time when I needed a friend rather than a critic. It made me rethink the people that I wanted to surround myself with."

"I really appreciate that you were so awful to me, because it gave me the courage I needed to walk away from you for good, instead of feeling like I had to keep giving you more chances."

Okay, so none of these would probably go over as hoped. They all sound pretty bitchy, in fact, but I am truly thankful when someone finally lets me take a step I might otherwise feel too guilty (over giving up on someone) to take. Maybe I don't need to thank them. Perhaps they are thankful for the separation as well, and wondering how to express that themselves.

Have I become Salem Woman?

I saw a tweet from a Portlander this afternoon that simply said, "Salem is a shit hole". My first gut reaction was to take personal offense, because how can I not take a rude statement like that personally? I wanted to say something nasty about Portland in response, but after a little reflection, I stopped myself from stooping to her level. I realized that 1) I don't care what she thinks about anything, 2) she said that out of ignorance, 3) there probably aren't enough strip clubs and addicts in Salem compared to what she's used to, and 4) she's always seemed to be kind of bitter and lonely, and that probably had something to do with what she said.

While I was walking my dog, though, I started thinking about all the reasons I like living in Salem, and the reasons I really don't care for Portland beyond a place to visit occasionally. I do like the size of Salem, which is mostly what makes it a much friendlier town than Portland (in my opinion and experience). In a sprawling town like Portland, with endless suburbs, there is little real sense of community like what I feel here in Salem. It was the same in Cincinnati, and the only truly friendly places I experienced were certain eclectic neighborhoods inside the city, like Northside. Otherwise, people pretty much know they'll probably never see you again, so why be friendly?

In the process contemplating all this, it hit me. My inner voice sounded a lot like 'Salem Woman' from Salemia (www.salemia.net)! If you haven't seen the show, Salem Woman has a bit of a Salem chip on her shoulder, and this makes her and Salem Man kind of possessive about their town and unfriendly to folks from Portland.

The more I think about it, maybe I'm not quite so like Salem Woman after all. I mean, it's not as if I'm blind to the negative sides of Salem. Every city has them (yes, even Portland - gasp!), and they are slightly different in every city or town. Seedy parts of town. Small-minded, hateful, ignorant people. Outdated laws or ways of doing things. Every town has some of all of those things, whether they admit it or not. The thing is, I mostly cannot change those things, so I have to either embrace them as part of the fabric of my community, become very bitter about them and fight a futile battle to change them, or move away. I think I have no choice for my sanity but to do the first. I have to be able to acknowledge and laugh at those things I cannot change.

So wait, does that make me Salem Woman after all?

On being an orphan over the holidays

When my husband and I lived in Ohio, we usually did Thanksgiving on our own after his parents moved to Florida. Occasionally, we spent it with other people who were also from other places and invited us into their home. Since we moved to Salem, we've been lucky enough to be a part of an orphan Thanksgiving each year. I find this ultimately much more relaxing than any Thanksgiving with my family or my husband's. Not that I don't love my family, but because anytime I am visiting them and usually staying with my parents, I don't just get to go home at the end of the day. It ends up being just a bit too much time at a stretch with them.

For Christmas, things are a little different. Before we moved, we rarely just stayed at home over the Christmas holidays, except for health reasons a couple of years. Usually, we drove down to Georgia to see my family, then headed to Florida to see his parents for a few days, then back north through Georgia with another stop to see my family again. It was truly exhausting, and those few years we didn't travel were, aside from the health issues, more relaxed and pleasant for me.

Since we moved to Oregon, it's been different each year, and this year is no exception. The first year, another couple invited us to join them and some friends at the Grand Lodge in Forest Grove for Christmas Night. It was wonderfully empty and quiet, and we were able to just eat, drink, and be merry all over the hotel that night, followed by the hike the next morning. Last year, my husband had coworker that was on her own for the holiday. We invited her to go with us to a play (A Christmas Story at Portland Center Stage) and a meal in Portland on Christmas Eve, then spend the night with us and hang out on Christmas Day making a meal we would share that afternoon. It was very low key, and I like that on a holiday.

This year, she has travel plans, so we are once again on our own. It feels like being an orphan, even though there are two of us. We are still going to a play, a different one, trying to decide if this will become a tradition for us, but aside from that, we are winging it. There is little to no likelihood of traveling back east for the Thanksgiving/Christmas holidays anytime in the near or far future, so I guess new traditions are in order. If you really believe home is where the heart is, then this is my true home, because this is where my heart lies. So new traditions should start where my heart is, right?

Rising from the ashes

It's been quite awhile since I posted, but we're coming up on the two year anniversary of arriving in Salem. It's left me wanting to document my thoughts about how much things have changed.

Over three years ago, my husband and I made the decision for him to take a job in Salem, a decision we knew would create complete upheaval in our lives. In the time between that decision and actually moving 15 months later, I spiraled down into depression and was so caught up in it, I didn't even realize how bad it was.

That depression made me long for deep connections to people I was leaving behind, as well as those people I met here in Oregon. I think in a lot of cases, I attached far too much significance to those relationships, and sometimes I got burned. Severely. In those cases, I had poor judgment and sometimes did very stupid things, and as I look back, I'm stunned at some of the sacrifices of myself I made to feel like I fit in.

I feel like I have finally emerged from that dark time into a me that I can respect. It took me awhile, but I gradually figured out who my real friends are, and got rid of those people both here and in Cincinnati that were toxic to me, those people that kept me feeling bad about myself. Some people I have not kept up with as much I thought I would, but that's okay. It's good to be selective about who gets to be in that inner circle, or in any circle, for that matter.

All in all, I think the most important thing I have gained from my experience is perspective. I know that my journey through life is as unique as I am, but I also realize that many other people have to struggle with the same things I have. In a way, we are all both very alone and in the company of many other good people in the adversity we face as we go through life. If I had to go through what I did to gain this perspective, I'm okay with that. Hopefully that perspective will help someone else I know, and that would make it all worth it.

Flighty or obsessive?

I have known for a long time that my husband and I have very different personalities. He tends toward obsessiveness over a particular activity or interest (at least for some period of time), whereas I fall at the opposite extreme. Call it flighty, but I like to think of it as dabbling. It's exciting to try new things, but I rarely want to actually commit to anything beyond doing it very casually, usually once or twice.

I've always been this way, but I'm just noticing how strong and pervasive this tendency is in my life. I've started to grow more and more non-committal as I realize how many times I've invested a lot of time and money in some new activity, only to lose interest shortly after I've made that investment. This is why I'm not a good sports fan. I am almost incapable of becoming obsessed with a particular team or sport, even though I enjoy seeing a match or game or whatever, every so often. It's why I never pursued roller derby more than I did and why I don't go online to watch bouts all the time. It's why, when I reached the top of Mt. St. Helens, my first thought was not to find another mountain to climb (as it probably was for my husband). Rather, I thought, "that was really cool, and I'm glad I did it, but I do not feel the need to ever do that again".

That pattern is evident in my work life as well. I was never going to be a great dedicated scientist that developed a research interest that I pursued for the rest of my life. In my last position, I was always anxious to get done with whatever project I was working on to move on to something else. My current position suits me much better, because I am able to move from project to project and not spend too much time focused on one activity.

In fact, the more I look at my life, the more aspects it seems to affect. It would be rather alarming, I suppose, if it didn't provide some comfort in explaining much of my behavior.

Our extreme differences in personality might seem to make it hard for my husband and I to get along. To the contrary, as long as we understand each other, I think it works out better. If we were both obsessive, it would likely be about different things, and that would be a major problem. This way, as long as we acknowledge that we don't have to always share interests, it works just fine.