Adult friendships are hard. Yet in this time of the pandemic, they are more important than ever. Everyone I know is experiencing some form of loneliness, anxiety, unease.
You’d have to be living in a cave not to feel the uncertainty and sadness accompanying this period when there are more than 160,000 dead from the disease. We are in and out of quarantine, our daily routines are upended, there is economic hardship all around and we’re watching our children suffer from disturbed schooling and socialization. Even Michelle Obama, who I admire greatly for her humor, strength and determination, admitted this week that she’s suffering from low-level depression.
What most mental health experts say, and have said long before COVID-19, is that having close friends is the greatest aid to both our physical and mental health. The Mayo Clinic reports that people who have a close circle of friends live longer, are healthier and recover better from illness.
When I was in public health school, we were taught that having a strong social network is one of the greatest predictors of good health outcomes. It vies with diet, exercise and, even, not smoking.
So, here we are in a perfect storm of anxiety about what the future holds, and of being isolated from loved ones.
Even before the quarantine, I was already missing good friends.
When we moved to the Santa Ynez Valley three years ago from the San Francisco Bay area, I didn’t realize what a hit leaving long-term friends was going to be. I’m an outgoing person, and I assumed I’d make new friends easily. What I didn’t really consider is that having reached age 70, so many of the life events that link people are behind me.
I laughingly say that having four athletic kids, I’ve spent countless hours sitting on a bench, watching one sporting event or another. There was Little League, swim team, lacrosse, basketball, rowing regattas and even equestrian meets.
So many hours and years of my life have been spent with other parents — cheering our kids, bringing and distributing orange slices as team mom, attending end-of-the-year pizza parties to recognize our children. By the time my youngest was launched, I knew half my town in Santa Clara County, having sat with them on benches, cheering our kids’ teams.
And not just acquaintances — I had deep friendships going back 40 years. When my late husband died, way too young, there was a support system I still remain grateful for. It was a tribe of four women who got me through the brief five months of his illness, and without whom I’m not sure how my kids and I would have fared.
There was Rhonda, an esteemed cardiologist, who I knew I could call whenever my husband’s doctors used words that were incomprehensible. “What is he really saying?” I’d ask Rhonda, repeating phrases or cancer treatments I’d jotted down in my ever-present notebook. She’d patiently explain.
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Jan, with an MBA and more practical and skilled with money than I am, helped me make financial decisions.
Good-natured Marie, who I’d known since our kids were in nursery school, helped me with day-to-day logistics: organizing car pools and birthday parties.
And Eleanor, a licensed marriage and family counselor, understood my fear, panic and grief. I could phone her day or night.
Almost every evening, one of them was in my kitchen, ready to talk and share a glass of wine after my sick husband was settled in for the night. I titled us the Gang of Five, and to this day, each of us rely on this wonderful network of friends. We are each other’s sisters; our kids call us their aunts.
When we moved to the Santa Ynez Valley, I didn’t really comprehend what leaving such deep friendships would mean. It’s really building a tribe for oneself: finding people that you can call on, knowing that you’ll also be there for them in their time of need. It’s feeling not judged. It’s being free to say just about anything — silly, intimate and from the heart.
Slowly, I am creating a tribe here in the Santa Ynez Valley. Through various community organizations, including religious, I am finding people I feel comfortable with. But, it takes time and at this age, without kids as a conduit, it is harder than it was when I was in my 30s and 40s.
The pandemic has meant enforced isolation. Although Zoom has its advantages, giving us the ability to connect through group check-ins, it is not the same as impromptu coffee get-togethers.
And, this weekend, when my friend Rhonda, the cardiologist, is celebrating her daughter’s wedding in her backyard, with only immediate family physically present, I will have to settle with virtually watching.
I have very little advice to share as we manage in our own ways to get through this crazy time. And we will get through it. But importantly, I suggest connecting with your tribe: old and new. Pick up the phone and call people from different times of your life — don’t wait for them to call you. Send the occasional card or note through email and the actual post office.
What 2020 has taught us, I believe, is that we have nothing in the world more valuable than these human connections.