I recently read “The Women” by Kristin Hannah. I won’t throw out any spoilers, but it’s a beaut. In my humble opinion, it is duly suited for fiction or non-fiction readers. Although it’s a fictional story, there are so many historically accurate facts that I think it would spark joy in the most austere non-fiction devotee.
There’s much that I could touch on, as there are so many elements in the story that gave me much to think about, but I really don’t want to ruin it for anyone who feels like diving in. So, I’m just going to focus on the female friendships in the book, or more pointedly, the friendship between three nurses who served in the Vietnam War together.
Here’s the funny thing, I do think about romantic relationships, or entanglements, often. I consider whether I want a significant other, or even a less-than-significant other, on many occasions. I think about it when I’m around friends who are couples or at events where it’s coupledom USA. I think about it when I watch silly, unrealistic rom coms and sometimes, when I read books that have relationship elements. I think about it, but I’m never envious. Just thoughtful.
But when I read about strong, meaningful female friendships, there are decidedly times that I feel wanting. I have friends, good friends, friends who are supportive and loving. I have people that I would call in the middle of the night if I needed anything, I think. I guess what I’m saying is I’m not sure. And this is not a lack of awareness or gratitude on my part.
If I’m being incredibly honest, I think there’s some level of caveat that exists in all of my friendships. Some part that’s reserved or held back or an ‘if-then’ scenario. It sounds like ‘we are such good friends, but….’ I mean, I could lie and tell you something altogether different, but that’s the truth. That is not to say that I don’t have people, women, in my life who I truly love, because I do. I guess what I’m saying is that it’s hard to be sure of a thing.
I’m also being honest in that I’m not sure friendship is one of those things that we should be 100% sure of, but I think there are people who do think that and moreover, have it. We change so much, all the time. Even when we don’t think we are changing, we are metamorphosizing into something else to suit our current circumstances, our environment, and a variety of other factors. That doesn’t translate to us fundamentally changing who we are as humans, but perhaps there is an impact on how we show up, generally speaking.
I think it’s incredible to imagine that we can keep our same level of energy and investment, no matter what is going on in our lives, but I’m not sure that’s even remotely realistic. I’ve had friends tell me that they wanted to be supportive of me during a difficult time, but given the tumult in their own lives, they weren’t able to do that. I didn’t resent or judge them at all, because even if a felt a little hurt, it made perfect sense to me. We have a finite amount of energy as humans and based on how we want to spread that energy around, there are going to be situations and/or people who are going to get more or less of us.
With that in mind, I find myself wondering if there are connections where two humans always show up for each other, no matter what. I can distinctly think of one person who would qualify in my life (if not more), but they are related to me. I’m not suggesting that it’s any easier for them, but I do wonder if that DNA bond doesn’t lend itself to a different kind of sacrifice, of commitment. I’m as appreciative, if not more, than I would be if someone not related to me showed up when I needed them, regardless of their status at the time, but I want to explore, specifically, the assurance that a non-relative can or cannot provide.
Do we think that our humanity always gets in the way? That’s to say that is there no way for this to actually exist purely in real life because we always show up with our own baggage to the party? Is this the stuff of fiction? Even when certain friendships seem to have achieved that level of connectivity, is it possible that it’s something of a charade?
I don’t have the answers but given how longingly I lapped up the description of the three friends in “The Women”, it’s clear to me that I want to try and get to a better level of understanding.
The problem for me is that when I start down the path of thinking about this, I do what I do in other places in my life- and I start on a weird self-blame exercise. I must be difficult to be friends with, or it must be challenging to be friends with a single, childless woman if you aren’t one. It’s silly to ask someone to be a ride or die if they have so many places where they already need to spread their commitment and devotion. Also, most people have already accumulated that person or those people over their years.
It’s ridiculous and counterproductive to think this way, I know, but I think I tell myself that it’s just me keeping me humble. I’m just keeping it all super real by focusing on the reasons why I can’t point to a person and say, that’s it, that’s my person who I can count on, no matter what. Those are my die hard, in it until the end girlfriends.
Maybe, for most of us, it’s not about having one person, or even two people, like the main character in that book. Like many other things in life, maybe it takes a village. Maybe it takes relatives and friends and co-workers, and neighbors, and so many others, to make up a framework of support for a human. Perhaps it’s too much to place the responsibility on just one person, and maybe we need the various qualities of all different types of humans.
Maybe the thing I’ve coveted is actually present in my life in a vastly different form. Maybe it shows up in the form of a mother and a sister, co-workers, old friends and newer ones, running partners, neighbors, and everyone else in between.
I think it’s easy to say that these books get it so wrong when they describe the ways in which we show up for each other, but maybe the only thing they get wrong is what it looks like. I may not have that ride or die situation, but I have all of these beautiful parts and pieces that make up a tapestry of support, and maybe that’s all I’ll ever need.
X
L.
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