Disconnected Connectedness

We’re more technologically connected than ever: availalable 24 hours a day with texts, tweets, voicemails, video chat, facebook, blogs, you name it. There have never been so many ways to be in touch. Yet, are we connected?

Take Facebook. We share vacation photos, daily ramblings and quippy comments. The “friends” list grows, filled with childhood playmates, high school friends, boyfriends, teachers and colleagues. It offers daily interaction with people we wouldn’t ordinarily see. We commiserate and share universal life experiences. We have a virtual laugh indicated by a smiley face or the ever popular “LOL.” We share plumber referrals, parenting ideas, news links and life transitions.

With some of these “friends,” it’s common enough for me to LOL or comment on a link that I think, “She’s cool. I’d like to get to know her better.” Others share a post and I think, “Whoa, TMI.” Social conventions, and the breadth of folks we include as “friends,” suggest the real truth shouldn’t be out there in print for the world to see. But sometimes I wish I had the courage to just put it all out there, unfiltered. Some days my irreverent dark side comes out more than others, but there’s always a thought about how it will be read by the folks who don’t really know me, and a secondary curiosity about who will respond to this irreverent side (as they’re usually my favorite Facebook friends).

Welcome to my world of disconnected connectedness. Close friends move away. We only occasionally get to see them or talk voice to voice.  Those who are near are busy: we have life, work, kids, chores. Too many things to coordinate, and, to make matters worse, we’re just connected enough with Facebook to not really need the face to face connection in the same way, or so we think.

This theme has come up for me personally, for many I know, and regularly in sessions. Here we are, all of these people, more connected than ever but missing actual, real life, face to face time with people (in addition to our partners and kids). While there’s much we can share by phone or online, real life contact is different (after all, we can’t get oxytocin from a virtual hug).

So, to address the issue, I’ve been “dating” again, only this time, I’m not looking for a life partner but available close friends. I know, and I remind my clients regularly, that making adult friends is not an easy task. We don’t have proximity as we did as in youth (classmates, college roommates, family friends), and we have way more responsibilities. As adults, we generally have to put ourselves out there to actively befriend people, not just wait for time and repetition to create closeness.

I heard my 3-year-old daughter ask a classmate the other day, “You want to be friends?” (fortunately, she heard a “yes”). It made me smile at the simplicity of such a question at age 3, when friendships are about liking to paint in class, sharing favorite colors and talking about poop when the teacher’s not listening.  As adults, we add things like values, interests, communication style, personality, politics and availability to our friendship criteria. We put ourselves out there in less vulnerable ways, needing time to try on relationships, gauging whether each person has mutual interest in the other, as well as the type of friendship the other wants. In a world where no one has enough time, these developing friendships often die off before they’re really started.

In my life, the gym, and the kids’ school seem to be my current social pools. I go on playdates with my kids that sometimes leave me feeling like an insecure 15-year-old. Talking with the other mom, I wonder, “When do we stop talking about stuff and talk about ourselves? Did I share too much? Are we friends enough to have a kid-free playdate? Do I even like her? Does she like me?“ Sometimes I realize that the other mom and I have little in common except our kids, and I label her in the kid’s friend’s mom category, in which our relationship revolves around parenting and scheduling playdates. Other times I am interested enough in getting to know the other mom personally that I throw out an open-ended suggestion like, “Hey I’m thinking about going to (fill in the activity), want to come?” If she says “no” I wonder, “Is she just busy or is she disinterested?” It’s full of awkwardness, especially since most people have more than one friend. When we’re romantically dating, we can interpret rejection as timing: perhaps the object of our affection is already taken. With the non-monogamy of friendship, it’s easier to take “no” personally.

This whole situation reminds me how much I miss the friends I don’t get to see enough. I sit with the longing for the women who really know me. I throw myself a little pity party. Then, I refocus on cherishing the time I get with these women, and more actively accessing friends here. Even with the exhaustion of the daily grind, I force myself to find the time, energy and vulnerability to reach out. I remind myself that real flesh and blood relationships are something I want and need (even when they sometimes make me miss my old friends more).

So, here I sit, typing a blog, putting it out there (sort of). I use technology to call, email, FB message and text the friends I miss. And, with whatever means I can find, I slowly build new friendships here, wondering if someday I’ll feel similarly connected to them… 

I hope so.