Loneliness and the lack of a regular pattern in human interactions or relationships are the biggest source, or trigger, of anxiety for me. And it’s been so my entire life — which is one of the reasons this blog is called “The Little Prince and the Fox”!
I have been consciously aware of this fact only for the past three years or so, and it was actually the super intense but also erratically irregular interactions with the boulderer that really brought it home to me. I’ve realized that most of my closest and deepest relationships and long-lasting friendships were built through an initial phase of meeting up regularly: a fixed evening dinner; a regular afternoon walk&talk, maybe with a snack or tea ritual added to it; a regular evening ice-cream walking & chatting; an almost-every weekend meeting to climb or hike or walk along the beach. Something I (and the other person as well) could count on. Loosely, with no stifling expectations and no drama if we had to skip sometimes, and often even the understanding of the regular pattern of our meetings was implicit, taken silently as a gentle certainty on both sides without the need to say it out loud. Maybe because it was a shared need or desire.
I’ve been missing this recently (as I often missed it in California).
For several months between last autumn and this spring, I had found a regular rhythm in my own life, a new rhythm compared to the one I had had for several years teaching in California, but a good, regular rhythm both for my own activities (working on my textbook, exercising, resting) and socializing with frequent and quite predictable patterns with several people consistently. And I thrived in those patterns.
Since May or June those patterns have been disrupted, mostly because of my own changes in jobs and living situations, my move, temporary accommodations, and getting settled into a whole new routine (new job, new schedule, new place, new interactions).
I have plenty of interactions. Some weeks are quite full of plans, meetings, and interactions, as are some weekends. Overall, I’m able to express and receive validation for the most important parts of my identity now as climber, scientist, and trans-masculine/non-binary person. I’m even getting plenty of compliments and/or attention without seeking it. But it’s all on-the-fly, almost superficial. It’s the recognition or attention or compliment from a stranger, here now, gone the next second, making me glow in the moment but leaving no really deep or lasting wellness.
At the end of the day, I have no plans with any friends or buddies for this weekend nor for any of the weekends to come, and no plans with anyone for the long holiday weekend coming up. And I know some of my friends or acquaintances do have plans but I haven’t been asked or included.
While I do feel the need to maintain independence and freedom to do my own things, and to do many different things, I also really feel the lack of consistent, steady, regular relationships or situations in which I can count on persons and plans a priori, without every time having to doubt or guess or plan at the last minute. I miss having a friend or two with whom I could meet up regularly for a hike and/or fun dinner out every weekend. I miss having a specific climbing buddy with whom to share fun climbing adventures on a regular basis, building trust and deep camaraderie.
And not having these types of relationships — apart from being tiring because every time I have to reach out, ask, seek, make efforts to connect — also really undermines my sense of worth: am I not fun or interesting enough? Am I too “intense”? Am I not enough of a good climber? Am I just not likable enough?
The Little Prince and the Fox 