I made more new friends this past year than I have in a long time. This is true both because I met a bunch of lovely new people, but also because I’ve completely changed my definition of friends, of relationships in general, since I started conducting them all over screens from the same 900 square feet, seemingly endlessly. Who I needed to talk to and who needed to talk to me turned out to be a different set of people than I might have guessed I’d be relying on to make it through these wild times. (Shout out here to my dear old friends who stuck it out with me because our connections will not end.) If I were to sum it up, I’d say relationships these days come with a great deal of curiosity and honesty, and a healthy mix of believing the world is fucked but trying to fix it anyway.
In between these bursts of popularity, I spent a lot of time thinking about how hard it is to pin down a true definition of “alone.” This year even when I wasn’t alone I was alone and even when I was alone I wasn’t alone. For example: I live with my two little boys, so I’m alone as the adult and parent, but not alone in the house, except every other weekend when they’re at their dad’s and I’m all alone. Except then, I’m still there with my two dogs and two cats, so I’m the only human, but not the only creature. I work alone. I have my own business made up of only me, but I’m a coach and consultant so I’m often working with someone, and for someone. I have no co-workers. Although I do have colleagues, these are many of my new friends. People doing the same thing as me, also alone but in a similar way, who I talk to.
These women were assigned to me in coaching groups or consulting projects, or I hired them or they hired me, and we hit it off. I may have reached out to them because they seemed cool. Or, and this is my favorite, people introduced me to them.
Each is valuable for a different reason, if what you value is connection.
The whole introduction process delights me in so many ways. Something I said or did stuck with someone I like, and then someone else entirely said or did something to remind the person I like of me, and so inspired them they made the effort to introduce us. I think it might be my love language.
I have always really hated small talk, and I know just what it is my friends are thinking of when they send someone to me, so I usually break the ice with a story. And I listen to their story that’s like mine. They ask a question and I tell another story, usually somewhat inappropriate for a first meeting. This isn’t on purpose, it seems to just be what happens next most often. I’m a sharer. Then they start to think of new things. They often take notes. I try to make connections for them.
Varying slightly are the people I reach out to in pure, old fashioned networking style. This is when I take notes. These (mostly) women are movers and shakers and connectors themselves. They’re the me I hope to be to the people I get connected with. One wheel turning the next. It was all making sense.
Such intentional networking didn’t really happen when I was working on the inside of the corporate world, in any industry. I didn’t do it and people didn’t really do it for me. The closest I got was getting invited to certain conference after hours parties, or being a reference for as many people as possible. And to be fair, it says more about me than any of the places I worked. I didn’t want to be too connected there, mostly. It was not my natural habitat.
These latest connections weren’t just about having similar lives or doing similar work, there’s a feeling of solidarity, as though we’re a community of outsiders. Like the Factionless in the Divergent series, a dystopian YA trilogy I think about more than I would have ever imagined. There’s a humility that comes along with that. We’re all trying to figure out a lot of stuff at once. How to be women in the world who are successful and satisfied and happy, to start. Most of us are eager to find each other.
I realized, over the course of these semi-random conversations, some that turned into regular connection, some into work, some with futures as yet untold, that’s what I needed in my work. It wasn’t just about coming up with someone’s strategies, or getting someone through a transition. It’s also what I get from who I work with. Everybody has to want to be in the relationship. And there are all different levels of engagement. Each is valuable for a different reason, if what you value is connection.
I usually have at least two conversations with someone from this band of outsiders a week - besides whatever work meetings have emerged from other new relationships. At the start of the week, when I’m looking over the time they’re booked for, I think about one of the maxims of empowered boss babe solopreneurs, which is to never give away your time for free. And I smile, thinking of the riches they’re missing out on. This isn’t the patriarchy but pink, exchanging time for dollars, there’s more to it than that to change the system.
Connection has become such a powerful value to me that it’s shaping how I approach my marketing consultancy. It’s already a fundamental part of how I approach communications - being true to yourself and understanding who you’re trying to influence. Beyond that, it drives me to seek out relationships with complementary businesses and community connectors, and always leave time for meeting new people who, for whatever reason, were put on my path so I can continue to be around new ideas. It also means accounting for time spent basking in the joys of relationship building, and assessing old relationships that feel much, much harder.
Connection also informs my purpose as a service provider. I know how lonely and vulnerable it can be leading a team or organization of any size, and how reassuring it is to find trusted partners. Some of my favorite people in the world are my agency partners from projects in the past. It’s exciting to realize I can make that an operating principle: be a favorite outsider.
I love a good dose of irony with a plan.
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Obviously, there are more ways than just these to be alone. More for me and many, many more for everyone else. Some ways are inevitable, some less terrible than first imagined, and some feel insurmountable. I know about them all and hope you know that even in the loneliest time there is someone waiting for you. Text 741741 any time day or night to talk to a volunteer Crisis Text Line counselor. You matter.