When I moved to New York 12-weeks ago, I was so terrified at my upcoming reality of being alone that I lost an entire pant size in a month because all I could consume were my thoughts.
I’ve always been a chosen-family person. I get it from my mom. We were the house that perpetually had kids staying over (and several times, living) with us. She was always welcoming my friends in, giving them love. I think, giving them the place she wished she had as a girl. She was, and still is, The Place. Everyone has always loved her because she loves everyone. If you didn’t have someone to be there for you unconditionally, she would fill the role without you ever having to ask. Big hot plates of pasta and warm blankets, your favorite soap. The eyeshadow you wore on the days you wore makeup. Everyone’s complexities were thought of, and never forgotten. An instant friend you could tell your stresses to, always agreeing to an impromptu adventure no matter the hour. I watched her do this with her friends, too. Everyone who walked into our house was our chosen family, no matter how new they were to our circle. So, although I embarked into this new chapter of my life excited and also a bit paralyzed with fear, I am relieved to realize that I’m alone, but not lonely. Just like she showed me how to be.
I’m actually having trouble not choosing my family everywhere I go here. I forget that most people don’t usually do that. I’ve had to talk myself away from the ledge of it. I’m not naive, but I do sometimes forget that not everyone is genuine. Not everyone wants to be close. Not every crossed path I experience is meant to loop back, sometimes a person is simply a lesson or a nudge in your world. I was reading in the park a few months ago, and an author happened to come sit beside me. She asked me to take my headphones out because she wanted to tell me about her new book. We talked about how great it was to escape into other worlds through books, and she talked about how she loved writing stories because she could build her own places to escape to. I absolutely loved talking to her, and our conversation came at the moment I needed it most. I felt lonely and invisible that week—it was one of my first weekends here, and all I was thinking about was all that I was missing. And it was just so nice to have this person I’d never met want to share something she was excited about with me, and in her doing that, I remembered immediately that I was not actually lonely.
I have two best friends. One is my parallel, like a twin life forgot to give me from the get-go, writing her in later when I needed her most. We grew up 3,000 miles apart but experienced the same childhood in different undertones. Every instance I grew through, like a specific joy or setback, she also happened to experience in her world. We like all the same things, and share specific coincidences and experiences. Our families share same names with the same birthdays. Our dogs love each other. She loves my son. She makes a point to remember everything I like, like the names of artists I mention in passing or little snacks I buy. She does this with everyone in my family, too. She is soft and gentle and goofy and I can talk to her about anything. I met her by chance at work a decade ago—we decided to meet up when I was working in Los Angeles ahead of moving there, and we’ve been inseparable since. We send each other weekly photo dumps of our favorite moments, then crack up over them when I’m back in town. My chosen family.
My other best friend I met in college. Our paths crossed when I was hugely pregnant, he was really nice to me and funnily told me I was ‘too pretty not to be friends with’ when other people in our class acted like I was a deadbeat for being pregnant in college. He was shy and soft spoken, hard to figure out. I always made a point to sit next to him, because I wanted to be his friend and be in his world. I have always. I liked how slyly and lightheartedly judgmental he was, and how smart he was, and that he had the same sense of humor as me. We have now seen each other through a marriage, two long-term relationships, two cross-country moves, and he has watched my son grow up. My chosen family. We can go 2-months without speaking, and when we see each other it’s like no time has passed. Sometimes I feel like if I had a sibling, they would be just like him. He doesn’t know I know this until right now, but one time we were at a birthday dinner for his boyfriend, and I overheard him telling someone new about me. He was sharing with them all of these specific things about me that he held close. I remember thinking I couldn’t believe how lucky I was (and am) to have someone in my life who thought of me like that. I miss him so much.
Sometimes I think about how different my life would be if my path and theirs didn’t loop back, or if I didn’t follow my gut and dig out that little cul-de-sac into the page of our narrative. I remember feeling a more watered-down version of my whole New York Fear of being lonely when I met each of them—they were so new, and everything was all so new, and now they’re hallmarks of my life and people I love, my chosen family. What is life if not making little attempts to choose your family as it goes on? Letting your stories overlap and seeing where it takes you. People who become Little Places that you find home in, who make everywhere you go feel like home.
This was so beautiful and something I so needed to read. I moved to New York last year after my mom passed away and I remember the loneliness eating away at me. I was so desperate for connection (because I had always had my mom) that I didn’t know what to do with it. I was so scared that being lonely meant being alone. It took me a lot longer to figure out that being lonely does not mean being alone. And I have two best friends just like you do that bring me such deep and immense joy. They are family to me. I think in New York where everything feels like you’re going 100% of the time you can feel guilty for not doing something. And now giving myself time for myself, being a little lonely, is one of my favorite things. It has helped me grow a lot. Thank you for this piece. My mom was the same way your mom was and it reminded me that she may be gone but her energy lives on.
beautiful 🤍