Redefining friendships in your thirties
This may entail a breakup
British psychoanalyst and artist, Marion Milner wrote in her seminal book, Life Of One’s Own, “I want, not knowledge, but experience of the laws of things; to suffer them, not only to observe them.”
Last month, as I turned 31, I found myself entering a grieving period, potentially losing two friendships built and curated over the twenties. In the last decade, I have made and continue making non-conformist life choices, and one of the most calming ways for me to live, has been through friendships. So far, I have been incredible lucky to have friends that go back nearly two decades. These coterie of trusted folks has been my safe space, and at critical times, advisers, editors that I can lean on. With them I have shared the most intimate stories and joys, been curious together and fallen in love with life despite its idiosyncrasies.
As the twenties’ roller coaster continued, some friends became a harness, however, over the past few months this harness has come unfastened. These beloveds have chosen to look away, for reasons they choose not to divulge. As a person, who has relied heavily on grounding herself through their voices and heartbeats of support, this sudden estrangement is messy, painful and rather new.
There’s a looming heaviness when I think of them. I don’t know their emotional states and do not know the right time, language, or emojis to use to check in on them.
It’s heartbreak and breakup.
Is this what getting older, shedding skin and evolution looks like? Is this what happens when growth is the only constant in life? Is this how one’s thirties feel?
Unlike breakups in my teens or twenties, where ego, insecurity, lack of experiences had a strong hand to play, these ones simply feel long-time coming. These cracks are finally revealing the reasons to continue or discontinue certain relationships. These are steps that welcome me to understand myself more closely and walk with more clarity.
There’s emptiness involved and yet this period is also a reminder of what breaking new ground feels like. It’s a talisman of maturity, a reminder that growing up is filled with choices where no one can be incriminated. There is no one at fault, and yet the situation has arisen and must be dealt with.
This heartbreak is also an opening to new experiences that life has to offer, in order to continue to remain a vessel of wisdom and knowledge. In my newly vulnerable position, I write this essay as a way to recognise and welcome the new learnings that apply to this decade.
Growth is painful - Once you have established the inner circle, one that comprises folks who celebrate your emotional growth, one needs to remember to honour growth in all forms. For all of us out there, learning to find ways to be authentic through our unique selves, can often demand periods of withdrawal, of solitude and maybe that means cutting off from everyone. If this friendship matters to you, then trust it. Allow the friendship muse to come to you, at its own pace.
Emotional vocabulary is key - A few months ago, in a desperate need to hear my friend’s voice and share with her some of my heart’s deepest treasures, I abruptly wrote to her, “we need to talk.” A few days later, she replied, sharing she needed her space, and telling me that such messages are alarming to her. Instantly, I realised that this was an opportunity for me to dive deeper into building a more gentle vocabulary. It also helped me identify silence as a language that often conveys more than one can imagine in a relationship.
Honour your boundaries - This cannot be overstated and yet requires a samurai level of discipline. Emotional investment offers more than just a comfortable and transparent relationship. It leads to mutual respect and comfort that the relationship offers to the individuals in it. It brings an unencumbered degree of acceptance that helps one fit into one’s shoes with ease. However, to maintain this requires a consistent sense of love-offering, reminders and forgiveness. Absence of that from either side threatens the dependability quotient of the relationship, and in essence the love.
I am learning to respect this white space that keeps on expanding. Everyday, the confidence, the endearment, the love, and the strength of this friendship chips away.
I’m choosing not to believe in the parental didactic that friends are not family. I am reminding myself of the pandemic’s brutality and its impact on our lives, minds and hearts. I am re-looking at how covid has unearthed past trauma for so many of us, and everyone has a different way to deal with it. I am questioning zoom and its role in increasing or reducing distances.
To have come to this precipice is also evidence of my friends’ journeys with themselves. This period of chosen silences, then, is circumnavigation and a call to re-look at the foundation of such friendships.
As I understand this, I feel all the more grateful for this turn in my friendships, for making space for what I need and what they can offer. These are cracks to allow the light to come in, to emerge more aware and confident of one’s role in the world.
Mariyam Haider is a researcher-writer and spoken word artist, based in Singapore. Her work and other writings can be found in the About section.