Sole Contributor to the Vibe

I have so many struggles, and making friends has never been one of them.

A small struggle of mine is that I remember the bad times more than anything else. It’s probably because they carve a deeper, more painful cavern in your brain. Icepick memories stick out more to me than blowing bubbles in sunshine memories just because it was a chainsaw type experience, and it’s easy to remember. My mom’s like: you had a great childhood. She’s offended because I always said I hated my beautiful home-town and reflect on growing up as if I had a bad childhood. I didn’t. I just had a few bad months sprinkled here and there. And I recall the handful of painful memories way more than I talk about how great everything was. I also think I have a bit of an attitude problem, or a perspective problem. I remember having really bad days at school because of the way my shirt felt on my skin. I remember feeling melancholy and quiet, and that was weird to my family, because I was normally really bubbly. So then I felt really weird about it, because I couldn’t explain why. Looking back, I had a pretty great childhood, melancholy included. Bullying factored in, it actually made me a better, stronger, more adjusted person to have been bullied. It made me humble, and I could have not been.

The past 10 years have been way harder and way less good, and somehow I call out the best stories and memories from probably the worst events in my life. I think it’s maybe because my friends over the past 10 years have been pretty amazing friends. Even the people I was obligatory friends with because of the larger group, or people who I am not friends with at all anymore. People that I had falling outs with, who I do not know for certain if I’d say hello to if I saw them in public. I’d probably say hello, and linger, but I’d worry for how long would we talk, and what subjects we’d broach, and would it be obvious whether we were happy for one another, or if we were pretending? We’d talk, probably not for very long, probably just the hello. And the goodbye, if we did talk, would be awkward. It usually is.

I don’t think being my friend has been very easy, because of my antics and the uncalled for events over the past 10 years. It’s like subscribing to an interactive shit show. And I know it would have been easier to not be my friend, which makes me even more grateful for the people who grit their teeth and stuck by me. I prayed really hard during the hard months in middle school, 1. That the boy I liked would like me back (the boy often changed) and that I would have really good friends when I was older (because at the time, I had no friends at all). I think my prayers usually get answered, because the boys did like me, and I found great friends. Like, even if we are sworn enemies now, my friends were good to me. And I’m not sure who is my sworn enemy, but I could guess a few people who wouldn’t have nice things to say about me. I don’t really talk about anyone I used to be friends with. Mostly because I’m really busy talking about myself. That, and it sounds like our stories are really different. From what I’ve heard. And I know my eyes, ears, and brain work well enough to know my version story is as close to the truth as it could get. I’m not really one to buff out my own flaws for the sake of sounding or looking better. I sound how I sound, and I look how I look. And I don’t need to paint myself as a heroic demon fighter, either. I am not a victim of someone else being human towards me. And I don’t like it when other people try to play victim, either. Life is challenging, and people perceive things differently, and having enemies kind of weighs you down. It’s like a side quest to maintain an enemy. I’m not interested. I have a main quest already.

As it stands, people who I’ve defriended over the years do not like me, probably because they lack the self awareness to understand why they are not a great friend, or person, and why they maybe dont belong in my life. I think of a specific recent ex-friend when I say this, because I'm actually hurt that they’re hurt that I didn’t want to be their friend anymore. Because it’s recent, I am still talking about it, and I don’t feel like a weirdo. Cos I’m like: wait, you think I deserve to be treated the way you treated me? You think so low of me, to believe I should tolerate, or even enjoy that quality of friendship? I’m sorry, I can’t. I have other friends who treat me well, and I’d rather dedicate more time to those friendships, and more time to my relationship with myself and with my family and with literally anyone, my boss and my coworkers, rather than dedicating time to a dying friendship. And I didn’t need to say this, because it does weigh me down, but I am also petty, and I am being honest, and shaking out the sandy towel.

I am also self aware enough to recognize that when I calm down (after 4-5 years of separation) I am ready to reintroduce those same “bad friends” back into my life, because they probs weren’t all that bad, we just misunderstood each other for a bit, and were too close to the situation, and I actually really miss their sense of humor, I haven’t found it in anyone else since. Except that by then, I am already a sworn enemy, because it actually isn’t that hard for me to set a boundary and cut off a friendship when it starts to feel toxic. I have always been that way, defensively, because I had some evil little-girl friends and older-girl bullies as a kid, and I’m not really in the business of getting emotionally and spiritually stomped on by a shitty friend. When the separation is confirmed, and the coals are still burning, I’m like: goodbye, you’ll miss me. And I say that with a fiery hiss, because I can be kind of a bitch when I feel slighted. And I know that they will. Miss me. Because I’ve been a huge bitch before, and I’ve meant these things when I’ve said them, and I’ve still missed my ex-friends despite it.

I, unlike everyone else in the world, am very self aware. Obviously! I can confess in the moment that I am being rude as fuck because I am bitter and my feelings are hurt. I know when I am using crazy illustrative vocabulary and biting words to make a story or a delivery much meaner than it needs to be. I sense when I am lashing out, and I admit it, and I still keep doing it, til all the poison is excreted from me. Then I look at myself and my behavior and the wreckage and Im like: what the fuck? Am I a bad person? The answer is no. I am human, and humans are not good all the time. We are at war in the Middle East again.

For most of my life I’ve felt the need to build up an army of friends who could protect me from what other people were thinking about me. This is also obvious, because I’ve had way too many friends who aren’t willing to defend me against people thinking and saying bad things about me. You can’t have more than a handful of friends and be super close with all of them. And you can’t expect people to defend you. It’s really great if they do, but sometimes people just don’t, because they aren’t like that, or they don’t like you enough to go out on a limb for you. It’s very simple to see that’s what it is, too. When you’re in a situation or a relationship, it’s hard to see how simple things can be. Even if it’s gray area: two things can be true at once. Someone can like you enough to be around you, but not to defend you, or go above and beyond for you, because they don’t wanna dedicate the time or effort or energy to your friendship. You are not that important to them, in that moment. I always try to gauge my importance to someone, because I think it’s healthy to match the energy you output and receive. Like, don’t pour energy into friends that don’t deserve it. Pour energy into yourself.

It’s easy for me to say that now. I guess your standards for friends lower when you mostly care to be around people, and only care that they’re somewhat on the same page as you. I would know. And trust me, it can be nice to have superficial, crowded fun. It’s easier to feel popular if you calibrate your standards the right way. It just gets old, is all. You start to get lustful for something with a bit more depth. You realize that being in a room full of people doesn’t mean you’re adored, and it doesn't even mean everyone likes you, or wants you around. You wouldn’t even know what most people in a crowded room were actually thinking, anyway. They wouldn’t tell you the truth if you asked, they don’t know you.

I got so petulant, too. I kind of threw my toys out of the sandbox. I’d rather be alone. Dig.

I mean, like, now I care about the quality of my friendships way more than I used to. I recognize it’s far more important than the quantity. Being popular isn’t important. It just isn’t. It’s about finding your path and your people and not letting a bigger crowd sway you from that. Still, I have probably 6 to 8 friends I call regularly. That’s a decent amount of people, from all different eras of my life. When we see each other in person, some of these friends still like a crowded room. I can do it for maybe an hour. Quality time is more important to me now, too. I like to be 1:1 in a setting that is good for laughing and playing and catching up, since we’re old now, and we mostly catch each other up. And then I hold space for friends who come and go when it’s convenient for both of us. I can resume and pause those friendships very easily. We can catch up in crowded rooms for an hour and it works beautifully. We can be one on one. It’s flexible. I like that. But If one of the 6 to 8 friends went dark on me, or only wanted to see me in crowded rooms, I would assume something was wrong. And I would address it. That is a big part of adult friendships, in my opinion. Communicating and addressing conflict is the only way to keep adult friendships alive. It shows you care to squash problems and keep arteries clean, you know? I don’t actually want too many best friends. I am not an admin, and I can’t go managing too many relationships. Then I won’t really be able to show up fully, either. But the friendships I do have, I try to keep clean. If I am the one muddying them, and not communicating, there is a chance that I actually am not interested in the friendship anymore. You see how that logic works?

A mistake I used to make was that I thought a lot of my party friends in high-school and college (and even post-grad) were my close friends. I’d say that out loud, too. Embarrassing. These people weren’t my close friends, but we did spend a lot of low-quality time drinking together. I felt protected, being in an environment with the same people over and over. I expected these friends to feel the same about me as I felt about them. I had a unique confusion between fondness and familiarity. It was also a game of numbers. I think everyone in that era cared about numbers, to a degree. Frat parties, a list for a party in the highschool basement, partiful invites to apartment parties, how many people could get into the club, how many people you know at the bar. How many hellos you can collect, and who remembers your name. Were you invited, or are you a plus one? Like: I might kinda suck, I might get too drunk and say things that chip away at my reputation, but a lot of people seem to like me because they say hi to me and call me by my name, so I can’t be that bad. Like, I am here, and people are talking to me, and they gave me a hug and they would totally defend me against slander if I weren’t in this room. Probably. Maybe.

I was always hyperaware of the micro-reactions that meant somebody didn’t like me. I expected the resting state was that people did like me, but the alternative was that they hated my fucking guts. I never figured that somebody wasn’t thinking about me, or that they didn’t have a strong opinion. This is a problem, and I still struggle with it. I think it’s called being self-centered.

Growing up, I also figured that everybody who was good and worthy simply had friends, and if you didn’t, then something was wrong with you. For that reason, I grew up, and I let myself be friends with people who I didn’t feel good around, or who purposely made me not feel so good. I felt like it was better to be in bad company than to not be in any company at all. And during times where I was ostracized, I was like: wow, I am a worthless person, and I want to die. Currently, I live across the country from anyone who loves me, far from any of my friends, because I wanted to be alone. I wanted to be alone so I could grow into myself a bit more, take a different shape outside of the mold I created. I think being alone, somewhat in the middle of nowhere (read: outside of a major city) allows for that kind of cocoon and transform experience (read: I expect myself to blossom into a beautiful butterfly because I did this). People who know you and love you have expectations of you. You play a role predetermined by how you always have been. People don’t like when you switch up, or set boundaries, or don’t do the things they expect and want you to do. Whether you're the jester or the mother. It makes it hard to grow and change, when you’re cemented by people and everything else that makes your identity. Like, your address even.

I didn’t clock the fact that I could be complete in my own company, and I could set the mood when I hangout with myself, and I didn’t have to get anyone to agree with me. I could just do things. I could always stick up for myself, if need be. I could make myself better and wiser and way more refined, only if I didn't have anything else to do. I didn’t know that until I was 27. And now that’s what I’m doing.

I’ve used so many random methods of cope. I still do, obviously, seeing that I live alone in the fucking mountains. But I am happy being alone now. And it’s spring, and the mountains are looking very beautiful lately, when they used to look very scary. And if I were partially happy with being sigma in New York City, being here by myself forced me to level up the rest of the way. I de-friended people who are arguably cooler than me, because they were assholes to my face and behind me back. I don’t think other people’s coolness rubs off on you, anyways. I feel better being alone. I get to be Good, and honestly, I feel rather cool when I go places by myself. I like being the sole contributor to the vibe. It’s always what I want it to be.

Moving made me feel more confident in the friendships I want to keep, and it made it easier to see what friendships need to peel off. I was kinda hoping it would do something like that. In addition to inner growth and epiphanies and freedom and True Knowingness. That kind of thing. And it’s spring now, and I realized winter kinda blows? Everywhere? Even in a ski town? It’s cold and dark. And now it’s warm (too warm for Colorado this time of year, but whatever) and the birds are chirping and the UV is a 7. In March. I’m so happy lately! The river is super loud from the melted snow, and it’s magical looking, and I’m excited to be in the mountains during the summer for the first time. And then I’m excited to up and move again come November.

Unless of course, I were to fall madly in love with someone who offered to move me into their beautiful modern mountain home and out of my popcorn ceiling bedroom, and suggested that we spend many months a year traveling, and also demanded that I quit my job because he really thinks I should spend all of my time painting and writing, and reading and walking and talking on the phone. Only in those circumstances would I stay in a mountain town. Oh, and he would have to be madly in love with me, too. More in love, actually. The person who cares less has more power, and I would need to be in that position because clearly this guy has financial power over me, if he can basically buy my life. And it sucks, too, because I don’t really wanna date an old-ass man, and I’m not sure there are many men in my preferred age range can finance a lifestyle like this. That is why it is my secret wish, to find this kind of dynamic. Like my 11:11 wish, and I actually will remain a FemCel until something like this unfolds for me. I am doing pretty fine on my own. I don’t think about dating very much, except to laugh about all of the dating blunders I’ve had so far. For once in my life, I am peaceful. Maybe because I moved out of New York and wedged myself into a nook in the mountains. Or because of the time spent sober, or that I cut off all my friends who negged me to my face and judged me quietly and talked shit about me loudly at a group dinner, where I wasn’t in attendance. It’s probably a bit of everything. But it doesn't even matter why I’m peaceful. I know for a fact that any random guy I’d date right now would fuck that up for me. I’m Not interested. I have enough stupid dating stories to last forever, and not nearly enough patience. I am even recognizing some of my personal not-dating-affiliated stories are even more interesting than the stupid dating stories. And on top of that, I may just be good at telling stories, regardless of the actual plot itself. Maybe i’ll become a nun.

I don’t really feel the need to make friends in my new mountain town, either. I only plan to stay for a year. And I keep framing it like a detox, or a retreat or something. Yes, I made friends during All of my psych ward visits. They were interesting and I enjoyed myself because I otherwise wouldn’t be hanging out with them, like, not in a psych ward. The mountains are full of many people I’d never hangout with under different circumstances. Only I don’t really want to hangout with them in the current circumstances either, because I’m solitudemaxxing. Plus, I am getting very privy to the fact that the people you spend time with rub off on you, or reflect on you, or however you want to look at it. But! But. I did find some normal friends here who I’d be friends with anywhere, which was entirely unexpected. Like, I didn’t come here to make friends. As I’ve been saying. I came here to be alone. I told my roommate that, too. She had a weird reaction, because I guess that could be an antisocial and bitchy thing to say. But she knows that I did make friends here, despite saying I didn’t want friends, or however I worded it. Like I said, making friends has never been a problem for me. I have about 4. I’m happy I met all of them, through work and social media. When my roommate asked how I met the non-work friends, I said social media, and I didn’t elaborate. I don’t know if anyone here knows I’m online, and I don’t really care to tell them. I feel like I can speak more freely about my evil inner world without my in-real-life people knowing about it. But I don’t really have anything bad to say about anyone here….anymore. A few blog posts ago I was Confessing to the priesthood of my readers how judgemental I was feeling. Because I am hot and privileged I felt like shit about that, but I think it’s just a natural human stress-response to being in a new environment. Now I am hot and privileged and aloof, but not judgmental. IDGAF what anyone is up to. I don’t even wear a mask and pretend like I care. I really just want to mind my own business, and paint and write, and read and walk and talk on the phone. And since the birds and chirping and the sun is shining, I’ll probably go out to the rodeo and to play pickleball and golf and stuff, and I’ll socialize a bit more, but not too much. A few of my friends have separately offered hikes, and camping, and they all have cars, so I’m like: sure. I also asked if we can go see some air balloon festival in New Mexico, and go to Lake Powell, and they said yes. I won’t blow my mind if it doesn’t happen. But it’s kinda cool that it could. I like my friends. I just don’t want to get too attached. And it appears like I don’t really have to, because they all have boyfriends, and I’m probably just a checkbox friend anyways, so they don’t feel like they only ever hangout with their boyfriends. I like my friends more because of this. I also like to checkbox all the things I enjoy doing alone, and sometimes socializing takes away from that. I’ve never felt like this before. I like it alot better, because I am not seeking external validation and approval as much as I have my entire life. That used to be priority number 1. My friends. Like, above myself.

None of these new friends are men, obviously. I am really not interested in male friendships. I used to feel really valid by having “guy friends” when I was younger. Even in college, it felt like a security blanket to have a “guy friend group”, even if they weren’t a perfect counter part to my eccentric and beautiful and fun loving girl-friend-group. How could men ever compete? I feel any good man has plucked a trait or two from girlfriends past. Or has sisters. My boss has sisters, and he has a great personality, and we are friends in the kitchen, but we aren’t friends. I don’t really think men are friends with women they don’t want to sleep with, honestly. And that’s a conversation for another day, but it’s a belief I hold. And for that reason, I am female-friendship oriented while out here in the mountains. If anyone was curious. I’m serious about not wanting my peace disrupted by men. I am officially the only female in the kitchen, now that all of the South American J1s went home. So I get my fill of testosterone-fueled jokes. I think I am as funny, if not funnier than my male coworkers. They laugh at my jokes. This makes me feel nothing, because it is harder to get a woman to laugh at my jokes, anyways. Please do not worry about me.

So now that I’m comfortable being alone AF in the mountains, and more comfortable spending time by myself, I confidently will say: it is chic to have less friends. There are a lot of people here gunning for friends and invites to parties and pregames and camping trips. I am not interested in most of that, mostly because I’m sober, and in the mountains. If I were in NYC or some other city, I feel like I’d be vulnerable to want to be involved in a scene, and I’d probably contort myself and try a bit harder to be included. But now I have a healthy dose of not caring about the scene at all. And I love the feeling of not caring, while witnessing other people caring. It helps me see the scene as a little glass dome, and I don’t really want to be in a little glass dome. Not here, or anywhere. I feel very powerful, and I harness that feeling of superiority into doing my silly little activities, all by myself.

I used to regularly hear gossip about girl-groups from college getting in fights on vacation, or battling to be Alpha, cheating or getting cheated on, and then getting engaged anyways. That used to be interesting to me. Now it’s really not. I want to focus more on discussing philosophy, art, the future, girlhood, spirituality, how to afford a big ass home, and a vacation home, what interesting trips need to be taken in what order, and ultimately, how to achieve world domination. Gossip is so dead-end when it doesn’t work itself into a discussion about theory. It doesn’t really strengthen a connection between two people. I had gross-feeling friendships that were mostly existing on a foundation of gossip, and I had these throughout my life. I can barely remember why else we were friends, honestly. I feel relieved that I don’t have anymore gossip-friends. I have friends that I hear gossip from, or share gossip with, but it’s a small part of a longer conversation. If you’re a philosopher king like myself and my friends, gossip is a jumping board for speculation about life. It’s called being brilliant, and a smidge more empathetic than the average (not by much, but a smidge). All my friends, at current, are able to hold space for light theoretical conversation. That is a good reason why I hold so much space for them, instead of just reading books and watching YouTube and TV and movies and completely cutting myself off from society all together. My friends teach me things, and their lives and stories are as interesting as any book. As much as I boast about my alone time, I love a winding phonecall with my best friend, followed by another call with another friend. All of these topics can be broached with anyone I’m friends with, for the most part. And if not, they offer some other quality that makes me wonder, and want to be a better person. I love being friends with people who possess the qualities I lack (and the qualities I plan to lack forever, because sometimes it’s actually really hard to grow and better yourself). And some of my friends do offer really good gossip, especially when it’s entirely removed from me, but I kinda know the characters invovled. Its fun to know secrets, but I dont actually want to keep tabs about what so-and-so from college has been up to. Partially because it makes me feel gross, partially because I don’t really care, and mainly because It distracts me from my own plot, which is actually great gossip for alot of people and their friends, and a lot of people I used to call my friends. Which is fine. I’m self centered, I always have been, and I’m trying to be even more self-centered. Talk about me. I get high off relevancy. Why would I post online at all if I didn’t care about that? To spread hope about overcoming the bipolar diagnosis, the public manic episodes, the sexual assault, the ostracism, etc, maybe. I guess what narrative gets told depends on whether you want to love or hate me. If you didn’t care about me at all you wouldn’t be talking about me. Do you know how good it feels to be cared about? I feel like a precious baby. It feels so good. I want to contribute to a vibe. Like, I’d like the vibe to be good. But I would settle for just being a sole contributor to the vibe. Like, You can talk about me.