Friends: The New Holy Grail

When did having friends become a luxury?

Vintage European style chalice engraving by Henriette Guizot de Witt (1884). Original from the British Library. [Source: Raw Pixel]

“My friends are my ‘estate.’ Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them!”

~ Emily Dickinson 

I did not expect this newsletter would lead me to write so frequently about loneliness and friendship, but my thoughts keep circling back to these topics like an old hound doggedly retracing the steps of a wily fox who has doubled back on her own tracks to confuse her pursuer. 

To be perfectly honest, I feel slightly embarrassed to once again be thinking out loud about the challenges of forming and maintaining friendships in the modern age. I mean, even though my daughter likes to joke that I don’t have any friends, I am not actually completely friendless.  

But I will admit that it’s hard to make friends. 

And it’s even harder to make time for friends. 

For starters, I can’t be the only person who assumes that any friend-shaped person I meet already has an established friend group, which is — we’re so sorry — not currently accepting applications for new membership. I say this as a grown ass woman who ought to know better, but part of my brain appears to be stuck in middle school. 

Not that I found middle school to be particularly terrible. Or high school. Or the one year of college that I completed. I wasn’t a complete outcast, but neither did I have any ride-or-die friends. Perhaps it was my introverted tendencies. Perhaps it was my being a hopeless romantic who — alas! — wasted way too many of her young years allowing her entanglements to take precedence over the female friendships that would have, in retrospect, been a much better investment of her time. 

In the end, I entered adulthood without the benefit of any carryover friendships from my school days. Not long after, at the tender age of twenty-four, I was married. And that, ladies and gents, was that. 

Fourteen years later, I was divorced and starting from scratch with my three-year-old daughter by my side. 

For a brief moment, I ran a mom’s group that provided a much-needed bit of support. I still run into some of those women now and again. It’s always so nice to see them, but we never quite manage to take things beyond the accidental meeting in the supermarket parking lot or outside the local coffee shop. 

I don’t hold this against them, and I hope they don’t hold it against me. 

The truth is that even if you manage to clear the hurdle of making the initial overtures of friendship, it takes a damn lot of work to maintain even the most casual of connections. And we are all so, so busy just trying to survive. It sounds terrible to say, but who has time for friends?

Even Maslow’s hierarchy of needs acknowledges that “love & belonging” don’t come into play until our basic physiological needs have been met and we have achieved a sense of safety that extends beyond the immediate moment. I feel grateful each day for the life I have, but I also — like pretty much everyone else I know — am constantly hustling to ensure I get to keep that life. 

It kind of feels like the system is designed to divide and conquer, forcing each of us to take on life’s challenges alone, like a solitary hero girding herself for battle. 

And therein lies a big part of the problem. 

I’m not denying that there are days when you have to put on your big-girl pants and deal with shit solo. We’ve all been there and done that. But living your entire life that way is no bueno. 

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As a writer with novel-writing aspirations, I am a geek for books on the craft. From Stephen King and Chuck Palahniuk to Lisa Cron and K.M. Weiland, I own (and have actually read) a great many books on the art of writing. Few of them, however, have ever delivered an epiphany about my own life. The Heroine's Journey by Gail Carriger, which I read this week, did just that.

The Heroine's Journey, in case you are unfamiliar, is the counterpoint to the much more ubiquitous — thanks to Joseph Campbell and Hollywood — Hero's Journey. The Hero's Journey is all about big, strong solo achievement; Clint Eastwood-esque behavior; brooding; a fear of asking for help; rampant white knight complex; and — often — revenge. You may notice that these themes align nicely with the values of capitalism and patriarchy. Surprise, surprise.

The Heroine's Journey, on the other hand, is all about found family, networking, connection, solidarity, the joys of asking for help and giving aid, acceptance, and compromise. These are stories of hope, comfort, inspiration, innovation, and community. They are also stories that are frequently maligned as being “soft,” romantic, idealistic, simplistic, fluffy, and frivolous. 

Quick note from Carriger on the roles of biological sex and gender in relation to the Hero’s Journey and the Heroine’s Journey:

“… while a character may present biologically as male, he may be gendered feminine by the overarching journey. 

Harry Potter, for example, is a heroine.

And while a character may present biologically as female, she may be gendered masculine by her journey. 

Wonder Woman (in the 2017 film by the same name) is a hero.”

I have three books on my shelves about the Heroine's Journey. The other two  (The Heroine's Journey by Maureen Murdock and The Heroine with 1,001 Faces by folklorist Maria Tatar) would likely be considered more erudite than Carriger’s work, but Carriger’s take on the topic connected with me in a very personal way. 

She helped me understand the key elements of the Heroine’s Journey, which in turn, helped me recognize that most of the stories I like best are built on this framework. Turns out I’m an absolute geek for these kinds of stories in pop culture. 

I’m still learning how to identify the heroine’s journey in books and film, but I’m pretty sure all of these personal faves qualify:

• The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

• Himself by Jess Kid

• The Hearing Trumpet by Leonora Carrington

• Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

• Saint Death’s Daughter by C.S.E. Cooney

• Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldtree

• Our Flag Means Death (Max)

• Ted Lasso (AppleTV)

… just to name a few

There is so much more I want to say about this, word nerd that I am, but I don’t want this letter to go on too long, so I’ll just say this: 

The stories we consume matter.

They shape our minds and our world. 

They tell us who we are, and who we might become. 

And they help us imagine new possibilities.

If most of the stories you’re consuming tell you that the only way to win at life is  to be the chosen one, do everything by yourself, and take the other person out before they take you out, you might just start to believe it.

But what if you consumed stories built on the Heroine's Journey? You’d have an entirely different way of defining success. You’d understand that winning is a group project. You’d be willing to ask for help. You’d want to be part of something bigger than yourself. And you’d know in your bones how important friendship is. 

And if you believed in the importance of friendship, you’d be willing to invest your time and courage and energy into building strong connections. And isn’t that, in the end, the best way we can spend our lives? After all, when the end comes, we can’t take our toys with us; but we might be able to hold onto our memories and the love we gave and received. 

It’s something to think about.