Finding my Tribe
I remember sitting on my front porch a few years ago while my kids were really little, I had just finished reading The Red Tent, and I felt so envious of the women in the story. I was jealous of their shared purpose and bond. Their automatic entrance into the tribe of womanhood; passing along stories and chores and time with each other and their daughters. The story focused on Dinah, daughter of Jacob and sister to Joseph, from the bible stories you're probably familiar with. This book also touched upon the life of her mother, Leah and her sister wives who shared all of the above, plus a husband. The author didn't sweep over the jealousy and hurt that came with such a situation, but, as I sat there alone on my porch I couldn't help but think that their feelings of jealousy and inadequacy were surely less painful than my current state of loneliness. Sitting alone in the driveway of my beautiful air-conditioned suburban house watching my two beautiful well-dressed children play while supper was baking in the oven and my husband was on his way home from work I was supremely jealous of a tribe of biblical sister-wives. What the heck. I sure as hell didn't want to share my kitchen much less my husband with other women but I envied their closeness and I wasn't sure how to reconcile that.
When my oldest was a baby I was automatically invited into playgroup. For seven months each Tuesday or so we went to someone's family room and set our babies down on blankets and drank coffee. We brought playpens to friends houses for dinner and planned porch happy hours while the babies slept. We all lived in the same small town and had babies the same age. It was fun. It was easy. When we moved to Richmond I reconnected with some old friends and once again we met up on Tuesdays. A collection of moms with now toddlers all the same age showed up at the designated playground to let our wobbly children swing and slide in the company of others. We brought snacks and growing bellies and newborns and portable plastic potties in our trunks. When my two grew a bit bigger I was gifted the freedom of two and a half hours twice a week in the form of preschool drop off. It became harder to plan playdates as we tried to fit varying preschool days, (are you a MWF, TuWTh or a TuTh?), unpredictable nap schedules, and clean bills of health into schedules that never seemed to connect. As the two days turned into four and then five I found myself with more free time but still unable to get enough done. I was thankful for those kid free mornings but I was also lonely.
I watched what seemed like everyone on social media "find their tribe" so why hadn't I found mine? I was navigating the growing pains that come with aging out of the mommy groups but not yet settled into in the childhood teams of PTA or Little League or Swim team. Some women bounce right from one to the next but I had trouble meshing "me" with "mommy" so I was never sure if we were here for the kids or for each other. Maybe it was both all along and I'm the one who was just too tired or unsure to get that. Maybe meeting for drinks in restaurants would have helped push us past feeding times in sandboxes.
Why was it that I was doing all the right things: scheduling playdates, going on walks in the neighborhood, attending preschool functions, but I still felt lonely? No doubt it was me. I remember an episode of Sex and the City where they likened men ready for marriage to cabs driving around with their green light on. If a man had on his red light it didn't matter how perfect you were together, a long term relationship just wasn't going to happen with him. But the next day, his green light switches on and poof he's engaged six months later to a girl just like yourself.
I think in order for me to turn on my green light I had to start making friends for me not for my kids. And it doesn't have to be some "tribe" to be my people. Damn, I wish I had figured this out sooner. Or maybe I figured it out just when I really needed to.
Like with any of my ramblings, I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say here (do I ever really have a point? Probably not.) but I feel like there is something in my words that you might need to hear this morning. That being lonely is okay. That doing something about it is better. That it's okay if your whole entire world is centered around your kids but it's also okay if it's not. That maybe you don't have to find your "tribe" but rather just a few good friends who show up.
Maybe I should stop waiting to meet this fictitious group of amazing women just sitting around waiting on me to show up. My tribe doesn't have to come to me or make logistical sense or send me an invitation. Maybe my tribe is who I gather together.
I watched what seemed like everyone on social media "find their tribe" so why hadn't I found mine? I was navigating the growing pains that come with aging out of the mommy groups but not yet settled into in the childhood teams of PTA or Little League or Swim team. Some women bounce right from one to the next but I had trouble meshing "me" with "mommy" so I was never sure if we were here for the kids or for each other. Maybe it was both all along and I'm the one who was just too tired or unsure to get that. Maybe meeting for drinks in restaurants would have helped push us past feeding times in sandboxes.
Why was it that I was doing all the right things: scheduling playdates, going on walks in the neighborhood, attending preschool functions, but I still felt lonely? No doubt it was me. I remember an episode of Sex and the City where they likened men ready for marriage to cabs driving around with their green light on. If a man had on his red light it didn't matter how perfect you were together, a long term relationship just wasn't going to happen with him. But the next day, his green light switches on and poof he's engaged six months later to a girl just like yourself.
I think in order for me to turn on my green light I had to start making friends for me not for my kids. And it doesn't have to be some "tribe" to be my people. Damn, I wish I had figured this out sooner. Or maybe I figured it out just when I really needed to.
Maybe I should stop waiting to meet this fictitious group of amazing women just sitting around waiting on me to show up. My tribe doesn't have to come to me or make logistical sense or send me an invitation. Maybe my tribe is who I gather together.
