#67: The puzzle of creating community as an adult.
Embracing different but good.
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I’m on the hunt.
My senses are sharpened. My brain is on high alert. My radar is up.
I’m looking out over the horizon, at the crest of the next hill, to the far side of that jumbled cluster of trees.
In the local coffee shop, grocery store, Home Depot. At the bookstore. Airport lounges. Hiking trails. REI?
At any moment, I might stumble upon that elusive species not often found in the ecosystem of mature adults.
That species otherwise known as... a brand new friend.
Many of my longest, dearest friendships sprung from the fertile soil of my work life.
Takis, Luanne, CeCe, Sonya, and countless others I met in halls, offices, and conference calls during my decades as a corporate wonk. Although we have not always worked in the same building, or even at the same company, they remain steadfast forces for good in my life.
In particular my V2X friends, the ones I met after Mike died, were instrumental in helping me become more than Sad Widow Sue: first Leader Sue, then Badass Sue, and finally Luminist Sue. I will forever be grateful for how they met and supported me when I was a ghost of my former self. They saw through the illusion of my own doubt. With compassion and humor and just the right amount of kick-in-the-pants, they walked by my side as I reclaimed all of me I thought I had lost and then some.
Though I no longer had a husband, thanks to these work friends my life was again soon buzzing with familial intimacy. All those whiteboard sessions puzzling out a problem, all those train rides in the Acela Quiet Car to NYC. The 1am Shake Shack burgers at the Kuwait airport while waiting for the 2:30am Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt. Weekend-deal calls sitting at our separate kitchen islands, wearing baseball caps since we’d been working all night and had no time for a shower.
Until three weeks ago, when — poof! — work disappeared.
As much as I am enjoying turning my focus to what makes my heart sing, I miss this. I miss the side-by-side struggle, puzzle, and celebration that filled my adult life… up until now.
Only in its absence am I realizing the degree to which my work community was essential for me to become who I am today.
I’ve talked at length about the benefits of human connection and support, especially during the darkest times of the human experience (here, here, and here). But I can’t help but mull it over again, because the necessity and power of it still blows my mind.
Humans, like all other creatures, can’t grow in a vacuum. We need nutrients we can only get from external sources like calories, vitamins, and water. But also encouragement, compassion, and belief. There is something so impactful about others believing that you can do great things, and offering a helping hand as you climb towards that accomplishment.
These days I’m less motivated by the big, fancy accomplishments that fueled my corporate career, but I am no less drawn to learning, growing, and evolving. So how dumb would it be if I just rolled over and said, “Oh well, that period in my life is kaput. Goodbye community and day-to-day friendships! Time to do it on your own again, Deagle!”
Oh, that sneaky, old, you’re-all-alone-in-this-world voice, sensing weakness and filling the space with the poison gas of “do it all by yourself!”
Sit down. Shut up.
“Alive, awake, participatory, and engaged.”
As I stalk the suburban savannah for new friends, I internally chant these words. It’s become a sort of mantra to remind myself that I have control over my mindset, my perspective, my experience, and my outcomes.
Since 2024 Sue is all about being deliberate, I’m not going to wait until I get lonely to go looking. I’m going to create opportunities for the connection that is so central to my wellbeing.
After a little navel-gazing, I have decided that the community “nutrients” I crave are: shared stories, a sense of shared success from achieving common goals, and most of all, laughter.
So here’s my action plan:
I’m adding depth, time, and attention to my long standing friendships. Takis and I are walking the trails of the Potomac (with the pups Poppy and Scooter!) every Monday morning. Luanne and I are discussing everything from the quagmire of daughter-raising to the head-scratching trend of women our age opting out of the full-time grind. Last week, I took the two-hour drive north to Harrisburg to lunch with Pam, because connection is worth it.
I’ve always been resistant in a way I can’t explain to online community. Maybe it’s just in my Gen X blood. Maybe I’m just nervous or unsure. Either way, I’m challenging the instinct to not engage. I receive so many heartfelt comments here on Substack and also on LinkedIn. I’m not sure how to turn these into the community I crave, but there are real people behind those pixels. I’m going to lean in and see what happens.
I’m also opening my mind about where I can find in-person community, starting at the gym! For years I’ve been throwing kettlebells around with Kavon at our 6am, one-on-one workouts. Between sets, we talk about everything from philosophy to pop culture. And though I’d never gone before, he has group classes. In other words, a community premade by someone I like and trust; all I have to do is plug in! After just two of his group classes, I’ve swapped book recs with Colleen and had coffee with Shonna.
I never analyzed friendships until now — they simply unfolded.
But at 55, I don’t have the time nor patience to just “hope for the best.”
However, I also don’t have total control over this situation. I can’t force connection — chasing women who picked up similar self help books out of Barnes & Noble, screaming that we should be friends. There’s a balance here, a dance of agency and mystery that would be futile for me to pretend doesn’t exist.
Furthermore, even if I managed to ensnare enough people to fill an entire C-suite, I wouldn’t be able to replicate my work family. And if the cost would be many sleepless nights staring at spreadsheets, I think I’m ok with that. So once again, I’m faced with a hole where something loving used to be — instead of Mike-shaped, it’s work-family-shaped — and neither the ability nor alternative to quickly fill it.
Option C it is: getting curious about new versions of friendship, while simultaneously allowing what I already have to take up even more space in my heart. I think of how my most supportive and beloved friends live oceans away (shout out to you, my loves in South Africa, London, Germany, Hawaii!). Our yearly catch ups, exchanged emails, one-line texts are enough to move me, boost me, encourage me onwards to pursue my dreams.
Just because it is different doesn’t mean it is not good.
I don’t know what my new group of friends is going to look like. I don’t know if it’ll be a group, or a few close friends I have weekly coffee dates with. I don’t know if it’ll include a book club, or if we’ll watch Netflix docuseries together. I don’t know if they’ll understand my corporate wonk jokes, or if we’ll both like art museums and book signings.
But I’m not going to limit it. In fact, I’m going to do the opposite: allow myself to be surprised.
We don’t know if we like something until we try it. And there’s still so much more to friendship, to community, to connection I have to explore.
Showing up and trusting the mystery,
Oh my sister, have I been here.
After my husband died in 2012 I started a blog on Facebook about having been widowed when I wasn’t even 50 years old. That led to those online friendships you speak of. I bet that has already happened for you. I also had a robust support network IRL and that sustained me.
Almost 10 years later, I suffered a breakup with a man I’d had a relationship with for three years and had known since childhood. It was a leap of faith to go down that road, and I ended up badly burned.
By then my support network had moved, to the ends of the earth, it seemed. Those that remained were callous, telling me to get over it.
I continued to suffer loss after loss (no kidding), and it was the heyday of Covid so I was isolated at home, to boot. I sunk into a deep depression.
However, I managed to make an effort from time to time and now I have a small group of good friends whom I enjoy immensely. It required that I put myself out in the world when it was still all I could do to keep tears at bay.
I found something I loved to do, and my new friends loved it too. We are going out tonight. And I even have abandoned my fears and embarked on a new relationship.
I apologize for writing so much, but think it’s important to know that others have travelled our road and lived to tell the tale.
Wishing you well,
Sheryl
Thank you for highlighting the importance of fostering community. I think we forget sometimes that cultivating connections, friendship, is vital to our very existence. Shining a light on that need and being open about how you will go about building that tribe outside of your work life is why I love reading Luminist each Saturday morning!