You Don't Have to be Someone to Everyone

“Proximity to our neighbors implies an intimacy that often goes undiscovered as we get on with our everyday lives. So when the pandemic forced me inside, I soon realized there was an opportunity to actually practice what it means to love my neighbor as myself.”

Photo by Emily Fletke

Have you ever woken in the middle of the night from the pipes making a banging noise that sounds like something or someone is coming for you? And your next thoughts seem to take on a life of their own and spiral away. “Okay, this is it. This is how I die. And no one will find my body for days because my people will just think I’m busy. And now I’m never getting married or having kids, and I’m completely alone here, and my parents are going to have to come clean out my apartment…”

I have to admit the pandemic version of this internal conversation is even a little darker. In these middle of the night moments,  grief would send my thoughts spiraling through every single thing that I believed 2020 had stolen, both in the present and forever. And for so many months, it seemed it would never end. 

The experience of living alone for the last decade has brought me a lot of comfort over the years, but just as often has emphasized my aloneness when a ‘threat’ to my wellbeing occurs. 

Unquestionably we are made for community and connection, but one of my greatest lessons of the pandemic was that I don’t have to find that with everyone I know, meet or follow on social media. I would dare to propose that we find richness in relationships when we focus on a few or even just one. 

AN UNEXPECTED CONNECTION

Neighbors in New York City are a different concept than anywhere else since we hear what show they’re binge watching and smell what meals they’re cooking. Proximity to our neighbors implies an intimacy that often goes undiscovered as we get on with our everyday lives. So when the pandemic forced me inside, I soon realized there was an opportunity to actually practice what it means to love my neighbor as myself. 

I get overwhelmed when I feel like I have to be someone for everyone. The gift of cultivating friendship with one instead of many is, however, not only manageable, but enjoyable.  So, with my neighbor across the corridor, I found I could be for her what I needed for me. It was an exercise in multidirectional love. As I learned to love who she is, I learned to love more about who I am.  

Every Monday night at 7:00, we brought our dinners into the hall, sitting outside our apartment doors, facing each other with twenty feet or so between us. We shared stories from our past and stories from our present. We talked through hard things, like my father’s dementia, and walked through the passing of her beloved cat. We revealed precious dreams and creative pursuits that may never see the outside world. We tried to bring our whole selves so that none of our pieces were left to their own devices.

Thankfully, you can still see clearly a wince of grief, a wink of whimsy, or the brightness of revelation in each other’s eyes at that distance. In the consistency of our weekly conversation, I found an unexpected appreciation for the friendship that develops when you simply choose to show up for someone, time and again. So I want to challenge you with this:  you don’t have to be everything to everyone to find connection and community in this city. You may just need to knock on a door next to yours.