My Lonely Hearts Club

What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?

For many years, the first thing I did, even before my feet hit the floor, was to check my device. My Blackberry was my bedfellow. We broke up because he had a fixed mindset while mine was a growth mindset. Soon, my iPhone replaced him on my pillow.

Somehow, I’d convinced myself that having work messages waiting for me when I awoke meant I was needed. Important. Crucial.

It took me a long time to realize that checking in on work before I checked in on myself was jumpstarting my heart rate long before I arrived at the gym… and not in a good way.

Over the past few years, I’ve tried to become really conscious about checking in with myself before I check in with my phone.

Do I feel relaxed or tense? Do I feel pain or energy? Will my re-entry into the world include a limp, require a stretch, or make me feel like I can leap tall buildings in a single bound?

Do I feel a new hair growing on my chin?

All that shit is real.

And what about my heart? Do I feel nurtured and seen? Connected and engaged? Safe and satisfied? Or is something niggling at me that I need to take a hard look at?

Of course, some days net out with a more positive wake-up assessment than others.

Recently, however, instead of my usual energy and optimism, I’ve found myself drawn to my phone again.

I’m not checking for work messages anymore.

I’m hoping for messages and texts from the people I love.

This time, the phone check isn’t to validate my role in the workplace.

It’s to validate my part in a human place.

Yes (I’m opening myself up here), I’m feeling lonely.

What an unexpected statement from someone who has spent the last dozen years building communities of women and offering them a sense of belonging, connection and intimacy!

What a shocking admission to make: I feel lonely when I have more people with whom I feel connected than I have ever had in my life!

What’s this all about?

In my younger days, shared circumstances (kids in the same school, working in the same industry, or living in the same town) and recurring events around those life stages helped keep connections alive.

I’m now in the stage of, for want of a more flattering phrase, “mature adulthood.”

No nine-to-five.

No back-to-school nights.

No dance recitals.

The obvious upside is that I now have time and space for travel, art, exercise, reading and so many things that I enjoy.

Nothing makes me happier than being able to meet up with my soul sisters and old friends to go deep or to shoot the shit.

But later-in-life adult friendships that formed without the traditional cadence of coming together now take intentional work, persistence, patience and communication to sustain.

Freedom, it turns out, is a blessing. But it’s also a curse on connectedness.

My newer friendships were formed based on shared needs, interests and values. So, like me, most of my “peeps” are also exploring the world, learning new skills, visiting family, taking classes and appreciating quiet time.

That means we’re rarely in the same place, in the same time zone, or in the same mental space for a catch-up.

Instead of falling into step with the beat of the school year or the march of the office, we’re freeforming it and sadly missing some key beats with each other.

It feels wrong to have to be patient and wait for friends to return (or for them to have to wait for me). And it feels less than ideal to have to schedule calls to catch up with each other instead of running into each other at Starbucks or pairing up for a walk.

Even with a few generous handfuls of dear friends, connections necessitate intentional re-kindling.

We have to choose to get into the groove.

Sometimes that means planning for multiple-day gatherings where we’re together long enough to have time to go deep.

Other times it means navigating time zones when we’re both awake enough to be really present long distance.

With 30% of adult Americans admitting to feelings of loneliness at least once a week during the past year, I know I’m not alone.

So if you are one of my inner circle, I want you to know that I miss you. I miss us.

Let’s catch up.