Okay. Moving is hard. The actual moving part is not so hard. It's the readjusting and acclimating that's hard. Why can't I do things as easily as Bella? (I can't believe I just said that! I was so worried about her.) She walked right into her new school, made 10 new friends the first day, hugs them fiercely when she leaves, and never thinks twice. She assumes they are her new best friends. I am the one sitting on the sidelines cringing because I see the uncomfortable look on their faces when she hugs them. They are not Sophia Warnock. They don't think of her as their new best friend. But she neither recognizes this or cares. But my heart is slightly broken for her.
I, on the other hand, am struggling to meet people. Staying at home does not provide many opportunities to meet other people, unless you put yourself out there. And without knowing where to put yourself, it's hard. I've run into some walls. Cliquey walls. The walls that you run into in middle school and high school. They are still there. And, surprisingly, they still hurt.
When we moved to Chicago I found myself in the same situation. But the welcoming attitude was overwhelming. I remember saying, "I wish I had more friends here" and "Oh, this mom seems like we could be friends". It's a terrifying situation to be in, but it's real. Luckily, we seemed to be surrounded by people who continuously sought out opportunities to make us feel welcomed. I hadn't thought about this too deeply until last week when a friend posted this blog about making Mommy friends. When I read this I thought, "Oh my! That is me!" And I was slightly horrified! I don't know how to make friends anymore!
I have found myself for so many years in a work environment where you meet people with similar interests and they become your friends. English teachers tend to have enough in common to form some relationships. We like to talk. We like to read. We like to laugh. We generally have a similar, slightly cynical, outlook on life, and we tend to like being around other people. Teachers, by nature, like to be inclusive. We spend our days in the classroom looking for ways to include the student who is being excluded. And I think we let that take over in our "real" lives, also. This fosters a work environment where the new teacher is almost immediately included in conversation and relationship building. I've done this for so long that I am uncomfortable doing it outside of the work environment.
In Chicago I almost immediately met Jill, who moved in right next door the week after us, with three young kids, from New Jersey. We immediately had common ground. We were "in the middle of nowhere" completely outside of our comfort zones. We clung to each other for dear life until we were confident enough to venture out on our own and our circles of friendship widened. Now, when I think of our move to Chicago, I don't think I could have done it without her. My girls are missing them. We are missing them. There's something very powerful and inexplicable about having people you trust and feel safe with living right next door.
But then there's the preschool mom thing. I immediately made friends with the teachers at the girls' school in Chicago. Everyone was so welcoming. Over the last few weeks I've wondered why it's so different here. And I think, through a few conversations with my husband and one of my dearest friends in Chicago, I've got it.
To quote my friend, "You know this has nothing to do with you, right?" And I knew this. But I needed to hear it. The rejection, being snubbed, not fitting in...it hurts. But the reality is as true now as an adult as it is in middle school. It really has very little to do with me. It's not the clothes I wear, the way my kids behave, or the neighborhood we live in. It is the unwillingness of people to step outside of their comfort zones. And I completely understand. It is hard to put yourself in a situation of vulnerability. And reaching out to the "new girl/family" puts people in the position to feel rejected. Who would willingly put themselves in that situation? I get it. I really do. I have to be honest in saying, I'm not sure I would be the same person, willing to reach out, if I hadn't been thrust into an uncomfortable zone three and a half years ago. I might look at the new mom at preschool drop off, size up her doubts and unsure body language while she waves goodbye to her daughter, and not say a word. I might have been that mom. But because I didn't have a choice three and a half years ago, I know better how to reach out. I'm not great at it. But I'm willing to put myself in that position, because the pay off can be so incredibly rewarding.
Without reaching out to people in Chicago I would have never learned how to sew. Or I would have never known what real city living was like. I wouldn't have had random coffee dates in the summer. And I wouldn't have laughed until my sides hurt. I wouldn't have had a neighbor who knocked on my door on a random weeknight with a bottle of wine. I wouldn't have had friends who kidnapped me for one last dinner date. And I wouldn't have cried so hard when I left. But I also would have spent three years not fitting in. Not fitting in sucks, at any age. But you have to be willing to make yourself vulnerable in order to fit in.
You have to be willing to throw the risk to the wind in order to reap the reward.
