Hey uguba ndubuisi, happy Sunday!
I hope you're safe and healthy 🙏.
Before we dive in, I wanted to share some exciting personal news: me and Steph got married!
Our wedding inspired the topic of this week: being there when it counts.
When It Counts
When my mom died, I didn't ask any friends to attend her funeral.
I didn't want to burden friends with my problems, and I think some part of me wanted to prove that I was mentally strong enough to manage the loss alone and with grace.
That was faulty thinking.
I didn't need to prove anything. I needed to be around people who loved me and who were happy to be there for me in a difficult time. Thankfully, a few good friends sidestepped my naive masochism and came to the funeral anyway.
Two friends paused their vacation in New Orleans to show up. And two others rented an awesome car, drove across Florida, and took me under their wing for a few weeks while I processed the loss.
These were already good friends, but through their kind and selfless actions, they became lifelong friends by showing me that they were people who I could rely on when I needed it most. That feeling is as strong today as it was on the day that they showed up five years ago.
Their actions, coupled with the loss of someone so fundamental to my sense of self, made me realize how important it is to have friends who show up when it counts.
In the years before my mom's death, I operated more selfishly with loved ones. Instead of being content sharing everyday life with people who I already knew well, I prioritized novel and exciting experiences with strangers. I spent years traveling the world, optimizing for personal freedom and the hedonic impulses of youth.
I don't regret how I spent that period of life, but when my mom died, I saw the pursuit of novelty and freedom in a different light. The idea of living an epic life in Bali, thousands of miles away from people I knew, seemed pointless.
My priority was no longer establishing new relationships, but deepening the ones that already mattered. That reorientation, almost like a magnet's polarity being reversed, led me back to the US. Over the next few years, I lived near my friends and took more trips home to visit family.
My life became less exciting, but it also became more meaningful.
The last 5 years have reinforced the idea that lifelong friendship is about a two-way commitment to being there when it counts.
This theme has been particularly salient in 2022.
Earlier this year, I fell into my first major depression. I felt that I had lost my mind and was not sure if I could recover it. My days were filled with anxiety and dark thoughts.
I did not want to speak to anyone, including my closest friends. And as with my mom's funeral, I fell into the same pattern – I didn't want to inconvenience other people with my problems and thought I could find a way out of the darkness on my own. I was wrong…again.
Thankfully, a few friends called me randomly and sniffed out my sadness. They realized that I needed help and started calling and checking in more frequently. And little by little, as I opened up and received more support from good people in my life, the darkness started to fade.
And then two weeks ago, my wife and I decided to elope in Vegas.
We weren't interested in doing a traditional wedding and decided to spend a few days in Sin City tying the knot with just each other. I told a few friends about our plan 10 days before we got married, thinking that no one would be able to show up on such last-minute notice.
But to my surprise, nearly everyone found a way to make it. And the result was four incredible days with awesome people. The experience was far more meaningful than we could've expected, and it's hard to believe we were going to do it without good friends.
This idea of being there when it counts also entered my mind after a couple years of the pandemic. In what seems like a very short period of time, I feel that I've become less close with some of the most important people in my life. I'm surprised by how quickly this happened, and it scares me to think that I may no longer share much more of life with these people.
Some part of what I'm experiencing is the natural course of life. As life gets busier, people disperse and grow in different directions. I don't have kids yet, and I can only imagine how this dynamic will accelerate as I enter the later decades of life.
But at the same time, I'm committed to finding ways to fight back against this force.
And while I don't believe there is a perfect solution or antidote to this quandary, I do know that it's possible to keep the flame of friendship alive, even when it's difficult. Many people have showed me this firsthand by being there when it counts.
As I think about the friendships that I want to keep for a lifetime, it's now obvious that even if I don't see people as often as I'd like, I'll always make the effort to be there when it counts.
Whether it's the dark times caused by depression or health issues, or the important milestones like marriage or children, I want to make sure that I'm there for people.
There's obviously some balance to strike here, but even when it's wildly inconvenient, I've never regretted showing up when someone needs it. And I know that when people have done this for me, it's not only enhanced our relationship, but it's literally saved my life.
I'm certainly not perfect, but I've learned through the example of others that true friendship is your chosen family – one built not on convenience, but inconvenience. Everyone will show up when it's easy, but the most worthwhile relationships reveal themselves when it counts.
Thanks for tuning in, and see you in two weeks.
Cheers,
Cal
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