Empty-Nest Syndrome

Dear Readers,

Growing up, my family used to make fun of me for my ability to make friends. Yes, it is weird, isn't it? Rather than say, "Good for you! We're so happy you're socially adept and fun to be around!" they'd make snarky remarks about how retarded I am. Even today I get snide remarks from not only my sisters and parents, but from my husband as well. When looking at my Facebook page the other day, and seeing that I had over 300 "friends", he challenged me to tell where I knew each person from, and I not only accepted and completed his challenge but was able to tell him stories at length about most people. He'll never do that again, if for any other reason the sheer boredom he experienced.

I think I developed my ability to meet people through watching my Aunt Ruth. Ruth has always been a favorite person of mine, and from a very young age I found myself trying to pattern my own personality after hers. For instance, my favorite color is yellow. It's also Ruth's. Well, when I put it like that it doesn't seem too significant, but I assure you that at the age of 5 when I made yellow my official favorite color, it was a huge deal. Anyhow, I remember staying with Ruth during my vacation (one week in Boise every summer...I still don't look forward to anything the way I looked forward to that week), and going to Albertson's with her for a gallon of milk, but spending a half hour talking to the several people she knew. And then, while waiting in line to check out, she'd make friends with whoever was next in line. I loved this about her. And now, when I go to Albertson's, the same thing happens. However, Shay and Lucas don't find this to be endearing, but rather annoying. "How do you know these people?" Shay will ask, to which my reply will be a long explanation about how they know so and so and I met them at so and so's party and blah blah blah. "Nevermind" is his general reply.

Beyond my social grocery shopping encounters, I have my friends and then I have my "best" friends. Most people have just one, singular, best friend. I, on the other hand, describe several people with that title. Monica Maxwell is my best friend from growing up. Jessica Knickerbocker is my best friend from college. Scot Klein is my best friend from age 20-21. My cousin Adriana is my best friend for life. And my friends Loren, Jenny, Chris, Andrew, Jason, P.L., and Aaron are introduced or described as my "best friend". Who could forget Shay? The ultimate husband best friend. It's a tad ridiculous, I know. But how else would you describe them?

Earlier this week, I had a revelation about myself that kept me crying all night. The last group of people I described as besties, Loren, Jenny, Chris, Andrew, Jason, P.L., and Aaron, are people that I have upgraded from "friend" status to "family". When I think about who I want around me for the rest of my life, it's these people (don't worry blood family, you're included in that too). But what I realized was, I've surrounded myself with a group of extremely talented people who have the ability and the potential to follow their passions strait out of my life and into a glorious and famous life beyond Boise. At the same time, my dear sweet baby boy, Lucas, reminded me that he turns 7 next week, and "...isn't that old?". At that point, at the tender young age of 31, I went head long into a menopausal "empty-nest" panic attack. One that ended up requiring a sedative, and will probably require more (keep that Valium coming, doctor!). It's taken three long conversations, one with Andrew, one with Chris, and one with Shay, to assure me that I will never be out of the picture and regardless of what roads they go on (Andrew and Chris, that is. Shay's legally obligated to be in my life), I will always be a part of their lives. Of course I haven't confirmed this with the rest of our group, but I'm going to make an assumption that it will be the same with all of them. My mom told me today that should these amazing people leave my life, I could always make new friends. I suppose she's right. But the idea finding and making new friends at this caliber is an exhausting one. I mean, it takes a special kind of person to find me endearing...I'm foul mouthed, opinionated to a fault, known to force baked goods down your throat all the time, demand a lot of attention, and will make you help me move. Who wants that in their life?

My family will continue to make fun of my social abilities probably until the day I die. After that, they'll find it charming I'm sure. It doesn't bother me so much anymore though. My obnoxious friendliness has enabled me to have a charmed life, full of great jobs (because of people I know), great experiences (because of people I know), opportunities to travel and meet important/famous people (because of people I know), and the comfort of knowing that if I ever need to have a nice conversation I can head to any grocery store or coffee shop in the Boise area and count on finding a friend.

Sincerely,
h.