The Distance Between Us
Many people ask me how it has been transitioning into "normal" life back in Lafayette. Truthfully it's been both easy and hard, sometimes at the same time. Hard living back with my parents (not that I don't love them - but, I'm 27 ya know ...), easy to slip back into a work routine. Hard realizing I have to think about "vacation days," easy to get used to having a car again. Reconnecting with friends - both incredibly easy and incredibly hard.
Distance when you're distant makes total sense. Distance when you're close is completely different and terribly tough. It was easy realizing that the Alex from before is gone. It's hard now accepting that the friends I left behind are gone, too. Even the people who are still very active in my life since I've come home are different - they are not completely the same as the people I knew before and never will be. This has without a doubt been the hardest part about being home.
I recently read an article by travel blogger Nomadic Matt that struck me.
After months on the road, you find yourself back home and excited to resume old friendships. You plan dinners, get-togethers, and nights out. And, as some people fail to respond or show up, you begin realize an awful truth — while you were out exploring the world, your friends crept out the back door of your life.
Most people maintain a wide social network, and when you are in touch with that network it’s easy to think relationships are deeper than they are. It’s true that friends move in and out of your life regardless of whether you travel or not. It’s life — people change and grow apart. I have many friends I no longer talk to. We moved to different cities, our interests changed, and the ties that bound us grew weaker over time. But that is a gradual uncoupling and one less emotionally blunt. We know and understand why it’s happening.
My lifestyle doesn’t make maintaining friendships easier, but it doesn’t make it impossible either. I have friends around the world I only see every few years but we make the effort to stay in touch. When we are together, our bond is still strong. I know my friends wonder if I’m actually back or passing through and thus often leave it to me to text them. However, after establishing that I am really back and I do want to hang out, you begin to wonder how strong the bond is when you’re doing all the work.
When your texts go unanswered and plans constantly get cancelled, you see the writing on the wall. Maybe they want a friend who isn’t a nomad. Maybe we grew apart and I just didn’t realize it. Maybe one day the people who’ve left will wonder how I am and what I’m doing. Maybe a part of them will be sad that they don’t know.
I need to find balance in my life again – and that includes coming to terms with this.
I once wrote a post about always giving 100%, even when other people in your life are giving less, but also how it gets dangerous when you start to go beyond 100 in an effort to make up for others missing their mark. I suppose that's what I'm getting at here from another angle.
I'm not angry and I know that I definitely play a part in all of this as well. Maybe it's totally my fault and I just refuse to see it. After all, I am the one who left. I didn't (and don't) connect every day, or even every week, with everyone who is important to me. It's just not my style.
It would be completely ridiculous for me to have expected everyone to hit pause on their lives while I went on with mine. It would be insanely selfish to think that I'm the only one who's had life-changing experiences, challenges, and obstacles over the past year. Obviously. I know this. But that doesn't mean it's not hard to experience, and now there's no longer the same space for me. They've filled it with other relationships, jobs, houses, hobbies - things. Just like I filled mine with new countries, horizons, food, and new friends. I get it, but it's like swallowing a tack.
The distance between us grew while I was distant, and there's no going home because I no longer know the route. Regardless, there's a strong chance that I'll be cheering on all of these people from afar, forever. Maybe one day the gap will close with some of these people and we'll start again. Maybe not. People come into your life for seasons, reasons, or a lifetime. The catch is that you don't get to choose.
I can't predict if we'll reconnect, and I can't force it. But I do, finally, have to accept it - the distance between us.