Just a Small Town Girl, Livin’ in a Lonely World

Making friends is difficult. Well, let me clarify that statement- I am a very outgoing and friendly person, says me. I enjoy talking to new people, and I’m happy to go out of my way to introduce myself. I like church activities and getting together for ladies nights. But, since the move, I’ve found it very hard to make friends here.

Again, let me clarify- I grew up here, so I have many people that I already know and converse with at church, people who I consider friends. And yet, I have struggled to find someone to be able to call when I am in a crisis, someone to be a close friend. I frequently find that my hubby is the only one who knows me well enough to hear, not just the happy news… but the venting. 

Here’s the deal. Suddenly I have become someone that no one understands. I live the craziest life! I mean… what do I have in common with anyone anymore?

I live with my parents. (Strike one)

My hubby and I are actors. (Strike two)

I have four girls. (Strike three- You’re out)

Add the natural childbirth (yeah… I’m one of those ;P), homeschool/preschool ideas, religious beliefs (which come with their own set of different-from-the-world-ness), and the lack of a dishwasher in the home, and you have yourself a genuine, certified unicorn. (I know I use it a lot, but I like the word “unicorn.” It makes me feel like I’m unique, rather than weird. A beautiful anomaly.) 

I know I’m not really alone in those things… I think we’re probably all unicorns, if you look closely enough. But for my family, the combination of all our circumstances and life choices seems to be nothing but bizarre to most people.

Which is hard for me, because honestly, I love my life. I mean, sure, there are parts of it I’d change if I could… but for the most part, I like that we are who we are. I am very grateful for the things that make us different. But being different often feels lonely, because when I’m chatting with someone, no matter how hard I try, the conversation always ends up focused on how different I am.

And the biggest differences seem to be in the struggles I face. When I share whatever challenge I’m dealing with, people often react in shock and alarm… like my problem is something they can’t even begin to relate to. Or even worse, they tell me their solutions for how to fix my problem… like, it’s no big deal, if I only knew what I was doing.

Meanwhile, all I wanted was to vent, for someone to listen and commiserate. But how can they, when the life they’re living is so different from my own?

I know they mean well. They’re concerned about me, which is sweet. But I feel like whenever I start talking about my life, I inevitably become (in their eyes) either a basketcase, a freak show, or a pity project.

…can’t we find commonalities? Am I so strange that we can’t just chat about something we both enjoy? We could talk about hobbies, or how hard it is to exercise with children climbing on us. We could talk about funny quotes from our toddlers, or the most interesting intellectual discovery we had last week. We could chat about a new recipe we tried, our favorite shoes, the latest fashion craze, life goals, new curtains, pottery, best tasting French fries, pull over sweatshirts vs. zip ups, movies, ANYTHING! But instead… I’m a walking circus.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love talking about my hubby, my kids, and my hectic life (hence the blog). And, living the crazy way we do, I do have a lot of interesting stories to tell. Every week is an adventure. For example, this week I was on the “Late Late Show with James Corden,” and I got to shake hands with a cool celebrity guest star (watch the show April 2 or 3 on CBS if you want to know who).

But, I don’t want to just chat someone’s ear off about shows I’m on that I’ll probably never see, and celebrities I meet who I had to look up on iMDB (because I didn’t know their name, just their face). I want to hear what is going on in their lives as well. 

I’d love to talk about what paint color they’re thinking of using to repaint the bathroom. I’m super interested in books- I’d love to hear what they’re reading! (I’m in the middle of reading Dracula and it is thoroughly creeping me out, in the best way) 🙂 I’d love to exchange babysitting or go on a jog together! 

That presents a whole other issue, though. Honestly, a big part of the problem is where we live; from here, it takes quite a while to get anywhere. There really are people I feel like I could be good friends with… but most of them live half an hour away, over by our church. We’re pretty much the only ones our age who live in our area; most are in the next city over.

So, do I take two hours out of my day (half of that as travelling time) to get together with a mom group? Well… sometimes. Other times, my stacks of laundry and dishes and other chores tell me not to bother. Do I take my kids to a church activity that starts during our typical bedtime routine so I can attempt to cultivate friendships, knowing full well that my kids will go to bed an hour late and wake up the next morning tired and grouchy? … Sometimes. 

The point is… it’s not often enough to be consistent. And friendships take work, and consistency. True friends take each other meals, and come to parties. They come over for the day to help with chores after a new baby joins the family. They go to the park and chat, babysit each others kids, and are never far in an emergency. They hear the frustrations without judging, celebrate the good times, and remember your birthday. 

I guess that’s what I miss most about our home in Logan, Utah. I miss the amazing friends that I had there… and that most of them lived within three minutes of my house.

I’m working on it, though. I’m getting to know the mothers of my kids classmates. I’m possibly going to be getting a more active role in the school PTA (somebody stop me now before it’s too late). I’m trying to make the drive to the church activities more often than not. I’m trying to memorize names and ask open ended questions. I’m trying.

But after living in Logan, even though I was raised in a big city, now that I’m back in it… I’m just a small-town girl.