We drove an hour to have lunch with my teacher and friend who I hadn’t seen in almost a year. She is one of those people that I’m so grateful to know for so many reasons. She has the biggest heart and always makes me laugh.
One of the things I love most about her is that she keeps in touch. Not a ton, she is busy. But just enough. She reaches out to connect. She makes the effort.
It makes me feel special. Really special. That this person I admire so much wants to hang out with me enough to initiate the connection.
I have a lot of these people in my life who I admire, but it is usually me reaching out to make the connection. Sometimes, in the dark of hormones and winter and stress, I let myself feel sorry for myself that I am always the one reaching. I let myself wish that I was someone that all these amazing people wanted to be around, as much as I want to be around them. I let myself mourn over the fact that if I didn’t keep reaching, the connection would simply cease to exist.
But then I stop assuming that it’s about me. I stop taking it personally. Because it isn’t about me.
There is a big part of me that wants so badly to be the kind of person that people want to seek out. But then I think about how good it feels to have someone seek out time with me. And I wonder if it isn’t better to make someone else feel that special. Perhaps it is better to be the person seeking others. Reminding them that they are valued. That they matter.
It is a gift to have those people in your life who make you feel special. And it is a privilege to be one of those people to others. In the end, it’s not about what you get from your relationships, it’s about what you bring to them.