The circle of (social) life …

These days, I barely recognize myself when I look in the mirror. Sure, it’s the same old me, albeit with a recent haircut and a few more stretch marks, but I’m not the same person I once was. And I don’t just mean the fact that I’m no longer a journalist. My life is different, and I have been thinking a lot about its evolution lately. And while it isn’t always easy to admit these self-truths, there’s no point in telling it like it is if you aren’t willing to tell yourself.

In short, this is one of those posts that I am writing primarily to get my feelings out on paper. Even if I am so far behind on blogging that it's still Fall 2009. I am hoping to be caught up by the end of the month ... or the decade.

While I was in Hawaii, I read an awesome book published last year (“Look Again,” by Lisa Scottoline) which had a subplot dealing with newspaper layoffs. (Ironically, one of their displaced reporters found a job at The Times. As in the family-owned newspaper since 1896 that screwed me over in 2008. I seriously laughed out loud.) Among other things, the author really hit the nail on the head about post-mortem friendships.

See, here’s the thing: In my four and a half years at The Times, my social circle largely revolved around my job. Sure, I had other friends, but they were spread out all over the country. The closest was several hours away in Eastern Washington. So when it came to celebrating birthdays or going out for lunch or a drink, I didn’t have to look any farther than the other side of the aisle.

But, as the book so aptly surmises, once someone leaves, especially in a tense layoff situation, there are promises of how you’ll stay in touch, how you’ll meet for lunch, how you’ll still be great friends … and then reality sets in. That first time you get together with your work friends, it’s awkward for them since you no longer work there, and it’s awkward for you since that universe no longer includes you.

Bottom line: They’re writing the news and you’re reading it.

So, slowly, you start to drift apart. No one is to blame – it’s just the way things are. You don’t call them; they don’t call you. You send a Christmas card and don’t receive one in return. In some cases you shrug it off or chalk it up to busy schedules and lifestyle changes; in others, you’re stung that what you thought was a close friendship was really just based around work, and once the work was gone, so was the friendship. And that very well could evolve into being pretty pissed that you helped someone move and worked Christmas for them so they could be with THEIR child, and they never even bothered to come see yours after he was born.

After all, you have other (non-work) friends who don’t seem to have a shred of interest in your life, either. Maybe I have some sense of entitlement, but I don’t think it’s so hard to send a card – or at least respond to an E-mail – when someone that you are allegedly close to/have a shared history with tells you that they had a baby. Or maybe I’m just TOO NICE – considering I just laid there and took it when someone I considered a close friend told me she doesn’t “prefer” pregnant people or those with children – because of her own issues – and stopped speaking to me. Way to make everything about you; don’t let the screen door (or should that be shower door?) hit you on the way out.

It’s easier to leave the past in the past. Or is it?

Sometimes, you can’t help but let things fester.

But then you realize that you have a new life – and the ability to make new friends.

Don't get me wrong - I have some wonderful, loyal friends, and I am not discounting them whatsoever. But you can't grab a quick bite to eat with someone in Florida, or hit the Nordstrom sale with someone in California. I'd have a whole lot more frequent-flier miles - and a whole lot more debt - if I did that.

I have talked before about how it has been so nice to meet other moms through The Bump, but it has evolved into so much more than just having a sounding board of women with children in Collin’s age group to discuss teething and birthday smash cakes.

And here is a big way I am not like Lois Lane: I am capable of being friends with other women. I don’t see everyone with ovaries as competition.

Except maybe when it comes to Happy Hour. And I lose every time. It’s highly likely that on any occasion, I am still sipping on drink No. 1 while other people who shall not be named are knocking back their second … third … fourth.

But back to my point.

When my journalism career went down in flames, it took other elements of my life with it. So I am eternally grateful to the women who invited me to playdates and lunches, and made me feel so welcome. Being a stay-at-home mom can be lonely at times – and I am already at the disadvantage of living so far south I may as well be in Oregon. If only we’d bought that Lake Stevens house … we’d be living in a cardboard box on the side of the road. But hey, at least we’d have people to bring us dinner in our box.

Still, I am the resident couponing goddess of the group – even if they do just want me for my truffles. ;)

It’s nice to have some new friends – and things to look forward to.

To have a reason to go up to Seattle that doesn’t involve doctor’s offices or arbitration.

To have a sense of belonging.

Oh yeah, and the trips to Bellevue Square don’t hurt, either.

There was a time in my life when I thought all I needed was my career. Turns out I was wrong.

Good friends – and good cheesecake – are necessary to stay sane.

And that’s the truth.