The No Friend Zone

I woke up really sad this morning because I have no friends. I am 37 in 3 months and I do not have a best friend. 

I used to have great friends, men and women who knew just me. I had friends I could call to go out, friends I could call to cry to, friends I could lounge with, friends I could travel with, friends I could share this life with. But as I have done many times since I left Mississippi for good (some 15 years ago), I woke up this morning trying to figure out why I have no friends now. Why my real friend list stopped when I left home and moved to Missouri.

It breaks my heart, you know. I carry so much weight all the time, heartbreaks and disappointments that I have no one to share with, exciting moments and revelations that I have nobody give to, nobody I can pour into except my kids and husband. I feel completely lame calling old friends who are no longer a part of my daily life with my junk (good or bad).  But I also feel completely and utterly alone. I mean, who makes completely knew friends at 40 years old? Who makes it this far in life disconnected from a daily base of love and support outside of a husband and 2 kids and her mom? 

My life has been swallowed up and I cannot get out of the belly of this whale.

So much of it is my own fault, I know this. Missouri was such a miserable experience for me. I stopped trusting people. I did not trust myself. I was  embarrassed about so many things at that point. So I shut myself off from people who knew me because I was shame. And I shut other people out for reasons back then, which I could tell you all about but you can’t be my stand ins for a best friend all the time (even though I LOVE YOU).  

But I will say that nobody was trustworthy. Everybody was on some other shit. All the time. Nobody was ever straight up about anything.   I never recovered from it.  I then ended up in more constrained spaces (i.e. “Church life”and “Spencer’s life” and “married with kids and no money life”) where I did not know how to maneuver at all. I spent all my cookies trying to figure out how to navigate those very scary, constant life changes because I was by myself doing it. Nobody was close enough to talk me off the ledge except for the three women I keep on speed dial for emergency purposes because they know me from back then and know how to talk me off all the ledges.  

When I came up for air last year, I realized that I had gone too long and too far without help that was just for me, sisterly/brotherly love that was just for me. I had no shoulders to lean on except my own, and they were taken. I not only had not remained a good friend to people who did love me, I had no new ones either. My garden of friends had weeds and one or two brave flowers hanging on.

It is a cross that I just want to put down. Except I don’t know how. I have no idea how to start that kind of process without feeling even more lame than I already do. The person I used to be had time, money (or at least a kick it budget), and zero fucks to give. I am not about that life anymore. I have two daughters who need me to be a mom, not a homey. I am married and even if I were not, some stuff just ain’t cute at this age. So my toolkit for making new friends is outdated, lol. 

I do not do well in contrived spaces and conversations either, and somehow I think that that is going to be the starting point because God clearly likes to challenge me. I am going to have to fake it til I make it, and I so suck at that. So g’bye comfort zone of real convos for a while, hello bright (nonalcoholic) smile and small talk about Empire and Fix My Life and the “in” fall colors this year.

Anyway, I am keeping my entire life so honest right now that I am not even embarrassed. It literally is what it is. And please don’t blow up me up talking about “Oh Kisha but we ARE friends!” Chile… If You cannot tell me my real last name or cannot name the place where I almost whooped a white girl’s ass or did not receive a phone call from me while I was in labor with kid #1, then nawl. We are not friends, honey. We know each other. But we can BE friends. I’m totes game for it.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s