Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Letter to my friends I left behind:

Dear FILB:

It is a strange place to be when you have no BFFs, no one you can just text and say, “Coffee?” It is a strange place to be when you are the stranger. It is a strange place to be when you get all dressed up and go out and don’t see a single soul you know. It is very strange, not bad or sad, just strange.

Do I miss you? Of course, I do, but I can’t cry about it; I’m the one who left. It’s awkward to know if I should call though. You have gone on with your lives, as well you should and would, whereas I am carving out a new life, albeit with a spoon. Where do I go to meet new people? How much do I reveal? Do I just listen until I feel safe, or do I spill it all or offer a drop or two? When we leave a place where we have spent years making friends, deciding who the real/ forever ones are and who are just nice people you enjoy as you pass through, it’s strange starting all over from scratch (especially without a dog to walk or a stroller to push). 

At the 6.2 week stage in the move-to-another-state process, all I can say is, “It’s fun, but strange.” 

I attended my first Toastmaster meeting last week. I am no longer the star. There are many talented members whose speaking skills are every bit as good as mine. (This sucks.) There are many energetic, youthful and young members whose enthusiasm about most things matches mine (this sort of sucks too). There are several women in stilettos whose legs are much younger and whose skin is flawless. This totally sucks.

I have no friends with whom I can say, “All this sucks at my age. I really wish I could look 45 and be who I am at 73.” I have no friends who reply, “I know what you mean.” I have no friends of whom I can ask, “Do you know where I can get some Retinae?” I have no doctors, no shrink, no support group, no book club. It’s all very strange. Wonderful, exciting, challenging, but strange.

The strangest thing is that I am all right with all of this, regardless of the parts that suck.