I find, as I get older, that making friends requires more effort and more intention. On one end of the spectrum, it is easy to go out for dinner with acquaintances as an adult. However, the kind of person I seek in my life must mean much more than that.
Can he show up in a time of need, and expect nothing in return?
Will she deal with my repeated issues in a way that is mature, without superiority?
The first time I ended up in the hospital, I was greeted with calls and visits from so many friends. As my illness progressed, and having deleted social media, very few were left to check if I was okay. The conclusion of that experience is that most friends outside the boxing ring between me and myself are not particularly essential, though appreciated.
And as counterintuitive as it sounds, the greatest discovery I’ve had lately is to find individuals who, in fact, LACK sympathy, and EMPHASIZE analogy. These people in particular are fundamental to my support system. Because they get it. Life is a spectrum on many fronts, sure, but understanding is as binary as a light switch.
I didn’t believe these kinds of people existed until I met Yehkai Chern.
Around the time we first met, we went to Five Guys in Westford, MA, together; most of the time was spent in silence, eating peanuts and burgers and fries with cajun spice. In the sparse conversation we did have, though we did not reveal our diagnoses to each other, we immediately found solace and easy dialogue. The kind of connection where the beauty of silence transmutes into words unsaid.
We realized that much of our experience in early adulthood made sense to the other.
Family is support, yes, but every family member wants you to be happy. Better friends can hold you and experience the sadness, the lethargy, the blackened thought-bubble squiggles above your head. With you.
Kai is gentle with me on the days where I struggle to get out of bed.
“Please put your feet on the ground if you can manage.”