how crying to a group of strangers led to big friendships

a call to action to truly connect with each other again

May 07, 2024

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Before You Read

12 min read

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In this essay, I talk about my personal journey through loneliness and the transformative power of friendship. Over the span of a year, I made it my mission to bounce back from friendship breakups and free myself from feelings of isolation, and I'm amazed by how a simple yearning to connect with others has blossomed into not only a community beyond my wildest dreams, but a new found love for myself.

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How crying to a group of strangers about loneliness led to Big Friendships

I wrote this piece a little over a year ago about my personal experience with loneliness and how I freaked out when I discovered that loneliness heightens health risks as much as smoking 15 cigarettes a day.

I had a lot of trust issues in high school and throughout most of my 20s. I won’t get into why right now, but it certainly affected the way I showed up in my friendships. I experienced numerous falling-outs and developed a pattern of forming close bonds quickly, only to withdraw for extended periods whenever conflict arose. When I slowly began recognizing this theme in my late 20s, I actively worked towards changing and repairing the relationships that I valued and wished to sustain, and although many beautiful moments emerged from this choice, I still encountered a great amount of disappointment when new friendships blossomed and then faded away. It actually wasn't until this year that I unexpectedly began to feel a sense of security and an abundance of love within my friendships.

Last year, I made it my soul mission to rebuild and strengthen my community after recognizing just how lonely I was. And for me, that meant starting small and focusing on individual friendships first. I organized my focus into three separate categories:

1) old friends (to reignite connections)
2) current friends (to nourish and deepen connections)
3) new friends (to spark new connections and invite novelty)

For a whole year, I made a consistent effort to connect with friends. Every other week, without fail, I prioritized arranging one-on-one meetups or meaningful phone calls with each category. As rewarding as it felt, it was still pretty challenging because it pushed me far beyond my comfort zone of retreating into isolation and withdrawing into my introverted shell whenever I didn't feel like socializing. But by choosing to honor my commitment rather than letting my mood dictate my actions, I was able to cultivate some of the most life changing experiences with people whom I now believe will be my life-long friends.

During my journey of fostering these friendships, I started receiving a lot of feedback from people in regards to the way I show up as a friend. In various forms, people would tell me: "You're really good at making an effort, to which I would respond: “I am?”

I questioned this partially because most of the time I don’t really know how to take a compliment (I’ve been working on it though! I've grown past the reflex to brush off compliments or feel pressured to reciprocate immediately, stemming from my previous belief that all kind gestures should come with a transactional expectation), but I think part of me also found it surprising that people found my effort... unexpected?

In a previous newsletter, I shared an incredible substack post by writer Rosie J Spinks titled “The Friendship Problem.” The following is a snippet from the piece:

“A lot of people I speak to — people who live in cities, and haven’t moved away from their networks, people who don’t stay indoors after 6pm – are not happy with the state of their social lives.
My sister, who lives in San Francisco, says that despite knowing many people who live nearby and share her particular life stage, she can barely get someone to commit to something as casual as a walk with a coffee later in the week. Another friend said having dinner with friends in south London midweek — a 60 minute commute — ends up being more of an energy drain than a nourishing social interaction. She craves more of the kind of friends that can pop over for an hour on a Sunday afternoon without planning weeks in advance. So do I.”

As I coached myself to step out of my comfort zone and invest more effort in nurturing friendships, motivated by a desire to combat loneliness and prioritize my well-being, I came to realize that many of the people I reached out to were also feeling isolated. As I arranged and attended each of my one-on-one meetups, it became evident that individuals whom I had assumed to be more socially active than myself were, in reality, grappling with a sense of incompleteness within their social circles.

The significance of this friendship dilemma became even clearer to me when I chose to host a dinner and vision board party for my 33rd birthday last December, themed around "Big Friendship." This concept was inspired by a beautiful quote on friendship that I had included in my maid of honor speech for my childhood best friend's wedding.

Since I did in fact spend an entire year stepping out of my comfort zone by committing to my individual friend dates, I felt hosting this dinner was an ideal opportunity to merge the connections I had carefully cultivated into some kind of community. Stepping beyond my preference for intimate settings, this was a considerable leap for me, especially because I get extremely anxious about mixing friends. As someone deeply attuned to emotions, I naturally find myself shouldering the responsibility for others' well-being, constantly and highly observant of their emotional states and whether they're doing alright. And I was exhausted from playing this role.

Hosting a dinner party like this had been on my vision board for almost two years and once I played around with my birthday flyer on the Partiful app and wrote the invitation copy, I knew it was a done deal and that I had to bring it to life. And this spoke volumes, because truth be told, I’m not typically the celebrate my birthday type.

But what came from this decision was one of the most awe-inspiring experiences of my adulthood. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night — and by perfect I don’t mean everything went as planned. I mean, I did try to cook pancit after failing twice prior to my third attempt, and I hilariously failed once again. And still, it was perfect. Because the love in the room that night was magnetic. Love was everywhere. And I think that often happens when we choose to surrender to the outcome and let the Universe work her magic. For the first time in my life, I felt worthy enough to soak in the abundance of love I received on my birthday.

I was moved by Amanda Seales' words during her viral interview on Club Shay Shay when she spoke about her current state of friendships:

“I’m at a place in my life where I feel like the love I have for myself and the love people have for me are at the same level, and I’ve never experienced that before. It took a long time for me to learn that I had the right to love myself.”

This deeply affected me because it felt surreal to realize that after just one year of consistently leaning in and committing to transforming this aspect of my life — rekindling old connections, actively nurturing current ones, and daring to seek out new friendships — I now feel exactly the same.

Furthermore, gathering the specific group of people I did on my birthday unveiled just how deeply everyone craved this particular kind of community — a place where we could feel welcomed and secure enough to share our dreams for shaping the world, while also opening up about our vulnerabilities and the fears that often hold us back. As I witnessed the budding connections that day, I couldn't shake the feeling that the little seed of community we planted was on the verge of blossoming beyond anything I could have ever dreamed of.

Now, the group of friends I gathered on my birthday has evolved into The Co-Create Club. We all get together every other month, sit around the table, and delve into our creative visions while exploring how we can support each other. How wonderfully serendipitous that what began as an anxious quest to alleviate loneliness has evolved into fostering the precise kind of community I've always yearned for. What’s even more incredible is that despite how big all of this already feels, I know it’s only the beginning.

Among the many insightful passages in "The Friendship Problem" essay, one stands out as my absolute favorite. It's a reflection inspired by a podcast interview featuring psychotherapist Esther Perel. Perel, as a woman in her sixties, reflects on her generation's upbringing, highlighting the invaluable lessons learned on the playground, where children were compelled to navigate and resolve friction. She contrasts this with the present, lamenting how children today, overshadowed by technology, have lost their social adeptness. Spinks eloquently echoes this sentiment in agreement:

“Friendships are, by their very nature, made of friction. To know what is going on in someone’s day-to-day life, to make plans with them, and then reschedule those plans when someone inevitably gets sick, and then bring over Calpol or soup or an extra laptop charger. To water their plants while they’re away, to ask them to take your kids when you’re feeling sad, or for help getting rid of mice in your house. To show up for the walk you planned even when you’re a vulnerable anxious mess — this is all friction.
And friction is not just interrupting your day or life to help out a friend, but also admitting you need the kind of help you cannot pay for or order yourself. To pierce through your veil of seamless productivity and having-it-together to say: I need something from you, can you help me?”

During my upbringing, my mother ingrained in me a hyper awareness of avoiding behaviors that she felt might be a burden to others. To put it more succinctly, she taught me to be exceptionally mindful of simply... existing. Her frequent reminders to make sure I was likable and her questioning of whether I truly belonged in certain situations had a profound and lasting effect on me. It’s no wonder why I flinch at even the thought of being rejected. It’s no wonder that for much of my life, I did not know how to insert myself in people’s lives as if I was worthy enough to be loved, let alone ask for support.

Now, as an adult, I realize that these messages were often rooted in her own insecurities. However, as a sensitive individual, distinguishing between my own fears and those inherited from my mother can be challenging. More often than not, I find that my fears are a reflection of her anxieties rather than my own. I always feel a mixture of difficult emotions upon realizing this, but whenever I do, I eventually find peace in my awareness as it brings me clarity. Though acknowledging our truths can at times be painful, I also find it beautiful to realize that we possess the ability to reshape our narratives.

The path to reaching this point of learning to love myself and being able to build genuine connections has been quite rocky. There were many instances where I convinced myself that it was easier to embrace solitude, to isolate myself, to be someone who not only doesn’t set expectations for others but also ensures that nobody expects anything from me, thus absolving myself of any responsibility for disappointment. I now see that similar to my mother, I was only trying to protect myself.

Below is the beginning of a new list, born from my friendship journey, detailing the type of friend I’d love to be for my big friendships:

The friend you can reach out to just to talk and say hello in the middle the day without feeling like a burden.
The friend that you converse with through intentional voice memos as a substitute for love notes.
The friend you feel comfortable enough to ask if I can drive you to and/or pick you up from the airport.
The friend you'd turn to for support prior to a doctor's appointment because you're afraid to go alone.
The friend who shows up to your parents’ 80th birthdays.
The friend who’s not only vulnerable enough to ask you for help but mature enough to know that if you say no, it’s not personal.
The friend you know you can call in the middle of the night, whether it's because you have insomnia or you’re struggling with a panic attack.
The friend you can schedule spontaneous dates with because you just happened to be in the area.

I aspire to embody all these qualities while also being adept at setting boundaries. And I hope that those around me can have confidence in my ability to be honest about my limitations during certain times and extend me the grace to be human.

Of course, I'm aware of my capacity, and it would be unrealistic to expect to cultivate such a big friendship with every person I encounter in life. Establishing this level of connection with each other will require time if we're not already there, but it's a vision I'm excited about pursuing with current friendships, and potentially even new and old ones.

Based on research and my own encounters, it is clear that as a culture, we are experiencing an epidemic of loneliness. We’ve normalized doom scrolling. We've convinced ourselves that glimpses of our friend's vacation photos or their child's fourth birthday are sufficient to stay updated on their lives. We hesitate to reach out, fearing potential reactions (or the absence of any response!), which then reinforces this belief that we are not worthy of love. We touch and hold our phones more than we do each other, and I don’t know about you, but I really miss spending more time hugging homies in between class periods and laughing on the phone for hours while watching a show together, without the anxious questioning of whether or not what we’re doing is productive. It is time we start recognizing that our lack of being able to ask each other Can I Kick It? more often and responding Yes you can! to our friends is not only diminishing our social skills, it’s actually slowly killing us. And given the current state of affairs (and by current affairs I mean genocide), there's never been a more crucial time for us to lean on each other and offer support.

Call to Action

Set a goal to call a friend some time either today or the next few days just to talk and let go of any expectations around how they might respond.
Make a list of the type of friend you currently are and what type of friend you aspire to be.
Write a gratitude letter to an old, current, or new friend as if you don’t even plan on sending it. If you decide after that it feels right to send, do it! Or better yet, make plans to see this friend and share your feelings in person (or FaceTime if it’s a long distance situation).
Call one friend and ask them if there’s any way that you can support them right now.
Brainstorm 3-5 ways you could be supported in your life right now. Call one friend and ask them to support you in one of those ways, again, letting go of any expectations of how they might respond.
Make an effort to have a conversation with a stranger today.
Share this piece with a friend and have a conversation about what thoughts come up.
Reach out to a friend to share your rage about the ongoing genocide or collectively express your fury over white supremacy. Help Free Palestine until it’s backwards, together.
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Coming Up

I mentioned in my last post that I’d be introducing a new series called Money Makeover, where I will be transparently sharing about my debt free journey. You can expect to receive this on Friday.

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