Constant use had not worn ragged the fabric of their friendship. ~Dorothy Parker
Sometimes I am so goddamned insecure I disgust myself. The insecurity typically comes after a bout of exuberance, confidence, or loquaciousness. I have a handful of close friends, so when I am bubbling over they receive the barrage of words or feelings, or both. Perhaps in addition to insecurity there's a bit of vulnerability in there, too. I'll look to Brene Brown to unpack the difference later, but in short, I have a tendency to monitor my social output the same way I used to monitor calories: too much is dangerous and shameful. I decide that I've gone over my allotment and conclude, without evidence, that my flurry of texts sharing ideas or bugs or stories is irritating, obnoxious, self-centered, and will turn people off. Get a life and stop pestering people! I think to myself. But my relationships are my life.
I started to cry as I wrote the last couple of sentences. I am so terribly afraid of losing the esteem of people I love because I am too much, too needy, too insecure. It takes me YEARS to develop enough trust to feel truly secure in a relationship. It's not that I don't trust my friends, it's because I think they are so wonderful and good and trustworthy that I want to deserve them. I know myself a little better now, so I try to sit with the discomfort and insecurity and vulnerability. I'm also trying to give others more credit: if they don't like me, they're grown-ass adults and can make their own friendship decisions. I don't have to take myself out of the running.
Today was a wonderful day. I saw a friend, one I do trust and feel secure with. My children rallied after breakfast and screentime and willingly went on an adventure. We picked up their grandma on the way and hit up the Halloween store, because in the opinion of my children it's never too early to start decorating. The store was pure entertainment; I screamed at one of the animated displays and tried on some hats, and the children acted like they were at an amusement park. After the store we went to Panera. They got their own table, of course, and I had a pleasant lunch with my mother-in-law. When we dropped her off on the way home, she found a box of old Halloween decorations for the kids. They spent the next FOUR HOURS carving watermelon with their new tools and decorating their rooms. I had time to listen to music, garden, and work on my little bug story. I felt free and happy, and I shared my joy via a number of texts with a few friends.
And then I got hit with the vulnerability/insecurity bus. Fucking insecure attachment. I love Dorothy Parker but had never seen the quote at the beginning of this post before. Henceforth, I shall think of the fabric of my friendships as .... I just did a search and it looks like spider silk is the strongest natural fiber. Spider silk it is. I will tell myself that if the weight of my friendship, of me, is too much for another to bear -- well then, perhaps the friendship is not made of spider silk. And that's ok.
Comments