Is community dead?
Sometimes I write these ahead of time, because inspiration has its own schedule. What I have still feels sort of relevant, so I'm sharing it with you below. But first, let's acknowledge just how different this week is than last week.
Right now it's probably wise to be intentional with our use of social media, which can make it tricky to stay connected for support in our private Facebook groups.
Adrienne and I had been talking about creating new communities on our site before the world shut down. While that project isn't ready to launch, I'm turning the old forums back on.
In order to keep it spam free and protect us from bots (ugh remember?!) there isn't going to be a public sign-up page. I'm going to manually create accounts for anyone interested, so getting an account won't be instant but hopefully this will ensure we have a safe space to share our experiences and support each other.
If you'd like to join the private forums on our website, please reply to this email and let me know. I'll send you login information.
Social media has a complex influence in our lives; it's way more than just 'good' or 'bad.' If your social media feeds are stressing you out, I highly recommend following a bunch of animals. Or whatever you're into. There are lots of groups and accounts for everything. Right now I'm really into mycology and bird watching groups on Facebook, which is flooding my Facebook feed with pictures of really neat mushrooms and birds. Also, dance videos. It's so good. Flood your feeds with whatever brings you joy.
One last thing: If you're stocking up on Amazon, please use Amazon Smile to support our work: http://ow.ly/2vdR50yQvwp
Okay, stay safe out there! Here's what I had scheduled for this week...
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I was scrolling through my Facebook photos looking for a particular picture and it struck me how much it looks like I have a long-term, tight-knit group of friends.
Which is funny, because that's certainly not how it feels.
One of the women who figures prominently in those Facebook photos was telling me how she was thinking about moving because she didn't feel like she had a community in the city she's lived in for the past few years. After a recent surgery (which I had no idea about) and spending a few months caring for a dying family member (which I did know about, but only after the fact) she realized maybe none of the people she knew were really friends. So few people from her daily life bothered to check in, never mind offered to help.
She and I were never really friends, per se. We mostly had mutual friends and just ended up at a lot of the same events. Events are where people take pictures and post them on Facebook. I don't think we ever hung out one-on-one when we lived in the same city. Now we get together when I end up in her town or, like this time, when I'm scrolling through Instagram and realize we are both visiting the same city at the same time.
I'm certainly guilty of being one of the many, many people who bemoan the death of community. I've never really felt like I was part of a community, although sometimes there were a few months where it felt like I was on the cusp of experiencing this mythical thing. But it never seemed to materialize. It seemed like community was something other people had. Something I didn't know the first thing about.
It feels like there are all these group texts and weekly happy hours and potlucks and whatever else happening without me. And last year I had a super weird week where three people I consider close friends managed to work the fact that we're "not that close" into conversation (which was more benign than it sounds, but still!)
And then scrolling through Facebook, I realized I was wrong.
From the outside, it looks like I'm tied into several communities. People I feel like I barely know appear to be my BFFs. And...maybe they are? Because maybe weak ties are just as important as close ones. Maybe my unrealistic expectations are blinding me to what I have. I mean, here I am getting drinks and having this intimate conversation with someone I've stayed in touch with years after we stopped running into each other.
We don't feel disappointed by someone unless we're connected to them enough to have the expectation that they will be there for us when we need them. Which might explain how it's easier to keep people I barely know around -- my drinking buddy did not appear concerned that I hadn't been there for her when she needed a friend -- than people I know well.
As I talk to people and read memoirs of people who grew up in the mythical good old days of community, their stories hardly conform to the nostalgic view I have. It sounds a lot like being stifled by community and family expectations. Those inseparable groups of kids we wax poetic about were viewed as ruffians at the time. Neighbors who kept an eye on things were meddling, judgmental gossips. Living with no privacy and no way out certainly kept people together. A lot of those beautiful, lifelong friendships went through long periods of acquaintanceship and estrangement.
Is community dead or maybe just...made up of a bunch of fallible people and thus better in retrospect than real life.
While it might feel seem like community is a thing of the past, there are a heck of a lot of meals being dropped off to neighbor's houses, driveways being shoveled, and errands being run. Those same people who I am apparently not close friends with keep making time to see me.
When I adjust my view to recognizing that stifling expectations and gossip and obnoxious groups of teenagers making too much noise are signs of flourishing communities, suddenly community is a lot easier to find.
PS. The best part of getting divorced was the way people I barely knew suddenly opened up to me about their own lives, went out of their way to include me (so I couldn't stay at home and mope), and opened their guest rooms to me while I sorted things out. And by "people I barely knew" I mean including people I had met once at a talk and chatted with over a slice of pizza. Who I'm pretty sure would now say we are pretty close.
PPS. Unrelated, but are you supporting someone who is struggling with their mental health? Here's a great, short guide.
If you are in a crisis situation,
In Canada: call 1-833-456-4566 or text 45645 for Crisis Services Canada.
In the US: call 1-800-273-8255 for the US Suicide Prevention Lifeline. You can also text 741-741 for free, 24-hour support from the Crisis Text Line.
Outside of the US and Canada: please visit the International Association for Suicide Prevention to find resources in your area.