How I Found Freedom In An Unfree World really struck a chord with me. The timing reminds me of the old adage, “When the the student is ready, the teacher appears.”
The book has me thinking about my current relationships with friends and family as well as my former relationships the have fallen dormant over the years.
Harry writes,
…you owe it to yourself to be the best person possible. Because if you are, others will want to be with you…(and will) want to provide you with the things you want in exchange for what you’re giving to them…
…some people will choose not to be with you for reasons that have nothing to do with you…look elsewhere for the relationships you want…
I have very little in common with my closest friends other than a history. In years past, we worked together, socialized, shared common goals and struggles, were part of a peer group and saw each other regularly.
But when I moved away from them than 15 years ago, our paths diverged.
When I was dealing with my wife’s lung cancer treatments, tortuous decline and eventual death, my friends support carried me. Their calls were a lifeline.
I also provided a lifeline to them as they dealt with their various struggles over the years.
We still occasionally catch up by phone. Our call frequency has dropped from daily, to weekly, to monthly. This makes perfect sense – we don’t have much to talk about.
- One friend is completely wrapped up in his new profession. He likes to tell me exactly how much money he makes each paycheck and the enlightenment he has attained through work.
- Another friend has been telling me for more years about his plans to clean out his old unused apartment and get his finances together. He’s my age. I no longer have the patience to listen.
- My third friend and I don’t have much to talk about. He’s got a full life, as do I. But we have so little in common anymore that chatting a few times a year is probably sufficient for both of us.
- My mother, whom I call several times a week, does nothing. Literally, I think she watches TV on her phone and lays around all the time. She’s happy to talk anytime I call but I run out of things to discuss with her.
And in fairness, I’m sure that none of these people want to hear about the mundane details of my life – my incremental workout progress, my observations when walking the dogs, my innermost thoughts of my wife and grief, my rumination on dating, love and living solo. They don’t care about my writing, drawing, painting, drumming, diet or what I’m reading.
That’s all acceptable. It’s reasonable. Those are my interests – not theirs.
They are my friends, but our lives have little in common.
I was thinking I have more in common with the people I see at the pool every morning. I don’t know most of their names, but I know their swimming schedule. I know if they are injured or healthy. I see them 5 times a week. I know what they do in their swim workouts. With some, I know about their families, their careers and their other hobbies.
I see other “regulars” on my dog walks most days too. Some I only know with a smile and a wave – like the elderly Chinese couple, the Birdwatchers, and the skinny hiker chick. Others I know better like the retired lawyer runner and the married couple from the Deep South and London. We always have something to talk about – even if it is only the weather, wildlife, trail conditions or kamikaze bike riders.
The longer I was married, the more I spent most of my free time with my wife. She did the same with me. I’ve learned this is common, especially for men. As married men age, their friend group peters out as they spend most of their time working and with their wives.
I definitely fell into that average.
I don’t regret it either. It was deliberate. I loved her company.
Long exhaustive work hours, multiple relocations, little in common with coworkers and being out of sync with many of my peers also made that choice easy for me.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this post.
I know I won’t be calling my friends and mother as often. I’ve already cut back. Instead of chatting with them when I’m bored, I listen to podcasts, write, read, listen to music or play with my dogs.
I’m talking more to neighbors and others I see regularly. No friendships have blossomed yet, but it is nice to be seen and noticed.
I don’t even know what I’d be looking for in a friendship today or what I have (or want) to offer.