On being alone, being lonely, and being a friend.
I’m an only child, but I get along ridiculously well with my parents. Both of my parents had siblings and large families. Their extended families were always close by, and so they grew up knowing there was a support network nearby. And then they came to America.
I don’t have a single family member besides my parents who lived in the same time zone as me. And now that I’m on the East Coast, I’m two time zones away from my parents too.
It’s never been something that bothered me much, because I’ve never felt alone, and oftentimes even wished I could be left alone. I liked spending time with just myself, and I thought I would always feel this way.
That’s not to say that I don’t love and value my friends deeply. It’s just that I’ve always felt confident that I would be just fine on my own. I scoffed at my parents’ fears that I needed to have people around me. And maybe this is the most cliché thing ever, but I didn’t realize how wrong I was until I went to college.
I think I like having the option of being alone, but that’s it. I don’t want it to be the only option.
Last summer, I was spending a lot of time before college with my then-boyfriend, who I’d gone to high school with. We spent too much time together, justifying it always with the rationale that we were so close to leaving for college and enduring three months of long distance.
There was one Wednesday when my best friend had to drive to Los Angeles to drop off some forms at her college. She invited me to come with her, and even invited the then-boyfriend, insisting that we could make a fun trip out of it. I excitedly said yes, I would love to.
The day we were supposed to go, I slept through my alarm. I woke up half an hour after we were expected to meet at her house, and felt my heart sink as I saw multiple missed texts and calls from both of them. Turns out, my friend had decided to go by herself since she had to get her forms submitted that day. I apologized profusely, and she promised that she wasn’t annoyed, that she knew it was just an unlucky accident. I thanked her for understanding, and promised myself that I would make it up to her. The boyfriend of the time had stayed behind, naturally, and he was up and ready to do something that day. So it looked like I was going to spend the day with him, as I’d already spent many days that summer.
I went downstairs then, and my dad was seething. I’ve seen him that angry only a handful of times in my entire life. We got in a terrible fight that morning, as he warned me repeatedly to not forget my friends just because I was dating someone, and I angrily retorted that this was hardly an intentional dismissal on my part, as I’d honestly slept through my alarm. And he just replied that I was forgetting how important friends are. And I should be ashamed.
I left that morning angry at my dad for being unfair, and perhaps he was, a little. But his concern was justified. I spent far too much of my time with my boyfriend that summer, and too much of my mental energy devoted to that relationship as well. I shouldn’t have done that because ultimately, He was in my life for perhaps 9 months in total, while my friends have been there for me for 6 years. It would be ridiculous to even compare them.
When my relationship with him ended, I felt suddenly alone in the saddest way. I suddenly didn’t know what to do on my own, and I’d tied up so much of myself in that relationship that I had trouble at first picturing the future without it. Such is the end of any relationship, I believe, no matter how serious.
It was a good thing that relationship ended when it did, and I saw that clearly even then. But still, when I was given the chance, I might have gotten back together with him if it wasn’t for my friends.
The hardest thing to cope with after being emotionally invested in someone is being alone. Suddenly, the things I used to tell someone else just stayed in my own head. It astounded me, the amount of space I had in my mind, and how many thoughts were capable of fluttering around all the time. It was annoying at best, and torturous at most.
Having my friends there made me realize that I wasn’t alone. And then, when I was ready, it made me realize that being alone was okay. That even were I to be left alone, I would be okay.
On the night of the breakup, my roommate came and sat with me on my bed and listened to me cry and talk about it. Then she made me go out and hang out with all of our friends together so I could forget about it for a little.
The next day, she and three of my other friends bought me my favorite cookie from a great café on campus. They brought it to the library, where I was studying, and silently sat down next to me to finish their work.
My best friends in San Jose and Paris alike were up at all hours of the night, talking to me whenever I needed it. They talked me through the whole thing, without ever passing judgement. One night, I stayed up until 4 a.m. talking to my friend, all the while lying on the carpet in the hall because that was the only spot I could talk without waking people up. The conversation could barely be called that, as I alternated between crying and whispering and sometimes just silence. And still, when I said I was ready to hang up, she said no, tell me what you’re thinking.
My friend walked past me in the library, and he made me stop and talk to him, and promise to grab coffee together the next morning. And when I kept insisting that I was fine, he replied, I know you’re suffering.
And all of these little instances were anything but little, and I started to think to myself, I have people like this around me, so I’m going to be fine.
I wasn’t always the best possible friend I could have been in the past, but I actively worked to change that after this breakup. That was more than 6 months ago, and I’m happy to say that I’ve gotten much better at reaching out to people, and making them feel valued.
Friends are so wonderful. I want to write more just talking about my favorite memories, funniest stories, and lessons learned. And as distance and time inevitably accumulate as we all grow up, I’ll be reminding myself to never let them slip through the cracks.
My dad has never been one for cheesy sayings, but he repeated this to me day in and day out: Some people in your life are temporary, and it’s okay to let them go. But keep your friends.
