I'm A Working Mom In My 40s And An Introvert. I Have More, Sweeter, And Deeper Friendships Than Ever In My Life
Here's how I do it
Hi friends.
This is one of those pieces where I’m like am I an asshole? Is this totally unrelatable?
But I’m constantly reading about how there’s a loneliness epidemic and people of all genders, all generations, in all kinds of relationships, are struggling without meaningful friendships in their lives.
And I am completely the opposite, so I felt like it was worth exploring why and, crucially, how. I am hoping that there are takeaways for others.
The things I care about and write about here—climate, politics, parenting, emotional growth—all of them are better addressed in community and in mutual trust. But where is that community going to come from?
Well, I’m in my mid-40s and I have never felt so rich in friendship. Last year I shared a birthday party with three Virgo co-hosts. I have multiple group texts, more Friendsgivings than I can make it to. I have amazing, lovely people happy to feed my cat, bring in my mail, go for a sauna, take a walk, grab a coffee, exchange work advice, muse about the meaning of the universe, plan a playdate or a group vacation, send me a funny Instagram Reel, invite me out dancing, or text me just to check in. In LA, San Diego, Seattle, San Francisco, New Orleans, London, Boston, and many points in between, I have people to get dinner with and who will put me up. We also host people for overnight visits throughout the year.
I don’t take my current friendfulness for granted. On the contrary. I have had very lonely years in my life. I spent my first 14 years as a bookish, Jewish, shy vegetarian in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where people gathered mainly at football games and megachurches. I was bullied. People threw things at me. Some of my searching for connection today is clearly a desire to rewrite the traumas of my youth. At some level I still can’t believe that people do really want to hang out with me. I can feel painfully socially awkward, still.
And I’m truly more of an introvert, in the sense that social gatherings deplete my energy. I prefer to be on the couch most nights. I like to see friends maybe once during the week and once or twice on the weekends. I really like group trips, where it’s more low key and you can soak up the time together, drinking tea and taking walks.
I know that there are factors beyond anyone’s control that make it feel harder to make and keep friends. Not everyone has the same amount of free time, financial stability, or health that I do. The fact that I’ve lived in the same city since 2002 is a huge advantage.
Maybe you’re like me. You hate small talk. You don’t like sports, or drunk people, or bars with TV screens. You don’t have regular-people hobbies, you’d rather read a book. You’re exhausted at the end of the day, the end of the week. You spend too much time on your phone. It’s ok. You can still have better friendships than you do now.
If you feel the lack of friends in your life, this list isn’t meant to make you feel sucky. It’s meant to inspire you, because I’ve been on both sides of the friends/no friends divide, and it can get better.
Here’s some choices that I think have resulted in the friendful ecosystem I’m now a part of. A few are more controversial/not for everyone, so I’ve hidden them beyond the paywall.
I actively prioritized friendship. I set the intention to both deepen and expand my relationships.
Work, partnership, children, health issues and the state of the world can expand to take all your time and energy. If you let them. My kids are a little older now, so it’s less draining than it used to be, but even when they were younger, I was pretty good about still being social.
This did require some babysitter money, but I also made new friends who were parents and hung out with them and our kids together. And I invited over my friends who were not parents. And I was willing to leave my baby with my partner even for 2 hours, after bed time, to put in an appearance at someone’s birthday party.
I have to say I think our model of heterosexual partnership is messed up. Your partner is not meant to be your sole companion, activity partner and sounding board for every topic. If your life feels lonely and out of balance, I think strategically deprioritizing your partner in favor of friends once in a while is worth considering—and do it for them in return! Your partnership could even bloom with a little breathing room.
I was able to be more vulnerable.
This came with maturity; a secure partnership; aging; and trials, like years of infertility, that I found too difficult to hide and that required support. The collective struggle of COVID was a huge accelerant as well—more of us got ok saying we were not ok. I’m not advocating for unfiltered trauma dumping, but opening up and being more honest about my pain and uncertainty and being able to hear others’ and be with it, without rushing to fix or give advice, was a big step for me toward knowing and being truly known by more people.
I joined some groups. Zoom is ok!
The New York Times recently featured a remarkable women’s group called, simply, “Group.” They have been meeting regularly, twice a month, for 44 years (!), to talk over everything in their lives and get support and advice. They chip in to pay a therapist to facilitate, which I think is a really smart idea. The women have become like sisters and have seen each other through everything.
Of course, I saw this article posted in my women’s circle group chat. The group has been meeting more-or-less monthly for about 10 years. I joined in 2020. It has been transformative for me. The way it works is that we divide up the time by the number of people who are there. You get a set amount of time to speak about what’s going on with you—say 7 minutes. Then the timer goes off and you can either continue for another 7 minutes, or invite feedback or affirmation from the group.
There is something so simple, yet so healing, about having a place to go, and the set structure of being able to take your time, say what is on your heart, and knowing the group will hold it without interrupting you or invalidating you. Being listened to, and hearing what others are going through that so often mirrors my own struggles, has expanded my heart 100 times. And it’s helped me be vulnerable and be known.
I am also part of a smaller group of writers that has met weekly for the past three years on Zoom, focusing on our work goals. And those people, some of whom I barely knew before, have also become really dear to me.
And I’ve more recently, in the past couple of months, joined a group of women Substackers, who meet once a month on Zoom and have a group chat, and we are already supporting each other in a bunch of different ways.
So your group can be focused on work and accountability, or on general life support, or any other shared purpose—but it should be a purpose that’s important to you. You don’t have to know all the other people. It can be on Zoom. I think the key ingredients are that you meet regularly and you take turns speaking your piece and listening.
Also, you should invite 2-3x more people as you can accommodate in a particular meeting. 20 in the group chat = 5 to 8 in the meeting. People flake, get busy and you need a critical mass to keep going.
I learned from the extroverts.
I am not an extrovert. But I started saying yes when they asked me to hang out. We have friends who threw a monthly potluck for over a decade. I have another friend who sends out quarterly emails to a bunch of people with a rundown of fun stuff they’re planning in the coming weeks—Philharmonic in the park, that kind of thing—and it’s an open invite for all who can join.
My friend Marci set up 5.8 mile walks, with 58 people, for the full year of her 58th birthday. She wrote: “Walking … reminded me that the best way to nourish a friendship is by showing up, making the effort and putting a date on the calendar.”
Inclusive gestures can be really simple. There is a mom of my younger kid’s classmate, who, when the kids were tiny, would buy big bags of chips at the dollar store and share them at the playground. Over the years I’ve gotten to know her, casually, and she is a natural community-builder— the kind of person who shows up.
I made a check-in habit.
My best friend, my college roommate, moved across the country a few years ago. We call each other on Friday afternoons. We don’t always reach each other and sometimes we only have 8 minutes until she goes to her next meeting. It still helps so much.
Once in awhile when I go to open social media on my phone I will instead look through and send a handful of checking-in and hello texts to people I haven’t been in touch with for awhile.
My husband’s best friend, a childhood friend, for the past 30-some years, has called him every time he is on his way home from the airport. Just to say hi. How sweet is that?
The point is that you set up a cue to reach out regularly, beyond social media, to people far away.
I keep seasonal plans.
Seasonal plans and traditions reduce psychic overhead. I have a friend who organizes a group walk to look at Christmas decorations—low cost, low lift, all she has to do is send out the invites. We always try to get a group together to go see the cherry blossoms in Brooklyn Botanical Garden. I throw my vision board party every January. The bag-of-chips mom has thrown a cookie-decorating party every December since college.
I am more affectionate. And I try to be helpful.
Some of my friends, a few years ago, started saying “I love you” and “I adore you.” So now I say it too. Because I do! When someone loses someone, I make a note in my calendar to check in 30 days and 6 months later. I organize meal trains and send soup to people and donate and share GoFundMes and box up clothes my kids have grown out of and promote people's work. People remember this stuff.
I expect conflict and friction.
People are flawed. I am flawed. Spending more time with others brings those flaws to the forefront. Friendship is a relationship of free individuals who choose to be together without formal obligation, and that’s what makes it beautiful. But friends aren’t meant to be everything to each other. Sometimes you will need to take space. Sometimes you need to say “ouch” or “I fucked up, I’m so sorry.” Sometimes you need to say, “She's a fun tennis partner but I can’t trust her with secrets.” Sometimes the group chat blows up. This is all normal, and it doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.
Friend breakups are painful when it feels like you’re losing your only friend or only friend group. Cultivating abundance in your friend life can let you relax a bit if there is a dustup here or there, which can in turn lead to less friction and conflict over all.
Behind the paywall, some of my more spicy, not for everyone, real-talk ideas for making good friends in your 20s, 30s and beyond.
And I'd love to hear what has worked for you to make friends in adulthood!
Come study and practice with me!
I’m offering a 5-week online program, February 26 – March 26, 2026, in line with my forthcoming book, to examine our collective emotional responses to the crises of our time and learn to find inspiration even in the depths of despair. The Institute for Jewish Spirituality has a number of wonderful offerings you can check out here; but you don’t need to be Jewish to sign up!’
Check out my friend Julie’s newsletter
My wise friend Dr. Julie Von sends out monthly reflections that weave medicine, spirit and nature. Sign up at her web site or read here.
This month, on the supermoon in Gemini, the pineal gland, and melatonin:
As the outer light swells and the days grow shorter, you might ask:
What is reaching for expression before the year closes?
What is asking to be laid down gently at the altar into the void to root and re-form?
Some less socially acceptable ways to make new friends
People make deep friendships in their teens and in college because they are having formative, fun, adventures. As you get older, these kinds of experiences drop off.
My observation is that if you want to really bond with new people as a grown adult, it helps to be exploring something that pushes your limits a bit—that makes you vulnerable, that helps you grow. Here’s some examples, after the paywall, that have worked for me.
