Nothin’ But Net

I have a very distinct memory of an evening during grad school, oh so many moons ago, when I was having dinner at my apartment with my then-and-no-longer significant other.  We were trying to eat, but the phone kept ringing with calls from distressed girlfriends who were in the middle of some trauma or drama that only happens when you’re in your early 20’s.  My boyfriend finally made some comment about how people sure called me a lot for help.

That’s a badge I wore proudly.  My relationships have always been better than superficial.  For one thing, I have the uncanny ability (Trait?  Curse?) to get people I’ve just met to tell me really personal stuff.  Once, my husband, Tenzin, and I were on an airplane with a couple who’d just had a baby.  We struck up a little conversation with them because they were having a few problems and we helped (or at least attempted to help).  When we got off the plane, the wife and Tenzin went to the restroom, and the husband proceeded to quickly spill his guts to me about how depressed and stressed out he was with his new wife, new baby, and new life.  Truly, that kind of crap happens to me all the time.  Fortunately, I’m not squeamish because people also like to get into their medical problems. . .

Anyway, with the addition of kids, I’m sad and embarrassed to say that many of my tighter relationships have become somewhat unraveled.  It just happens.  There’s only so much time in a day, and so much energy in this little body.  So my grand reputation as uber-helper has kind of died a bit.  I’m guessing, in part, because I’m now uber-helper to a couple of little kids.

The thing is, I still crave those tight relationships.  The ones where you yap on the phone for so long that your ear kind of hurts or you sit in the coffee shop until your cappuccino foam has started to dry.  And I still get that — in spurts.  But it feels kind of like a net that I cast out, and even though a few people might grab onto the threads, almost everyone else just sort of slips through the holes.  It’s nowhere near to being the great big blanket that covers everybody.

Anyway, I’m doing my best to keep the net from unraveling.  But I’m no longer the girl in the apartment, picking up everyone’s phone calls no matter what.  I’ve frankly shocked myself (due to my past oaths to never partake in such nonsense) with all of my texts, tweets, and posts on Facebook to try to keep up with the speed of everyone’s lives passing by.  All this while I attempt — usually unsuccessfully — not to beat myself up for just getting stuff done when I can get it done.

And I hope.  I hope that the people who count will find a thread and hang on.  Because right now, the great big blanket is gone.  I’m guessing it’s either lost or in the laundry.