For the past few months, one of the most significant burdens on my heart has been the lack of connection. I felt I had no close friends and like this season would turn into a permanent situation. Going to as many events as I could, reaching out desperately to connect, I tried my best to find a community. The situation remained stagnant. I kept telling myself, “just keep trying; it’ll get better eventually,” but the inner critic started whispering like it usually does. 

First, it just added a question mark to the promise of friendship. I would say, “that went well!” The inner critic would ask, “did it really?” It convinced me people were just being polite.

One evening, I was getting ready to meet some new people and I was listening to upbeat music, getting excited, getting hopeful, and the inner critic just had to butt in: “You’re going to say something wrong. Everyone there knows each other, it’ll be so awkward. You’ll just clam up and not say anything. What makes you think this time will be any different?”

I started questioning whether I was funny enough, whether I would talk enough, whether I would talk too much, whether I would get the jokes or come across correctly. Desperate to be welcomed into an understanding community, I overanalyzed every potential disaster in hopes of preventing judgment. If they found my flaws, they wouldn’t want me. Without people choosing to be in my life, I felt I was unworthy of being chosen. Friends had become a security blanket for my identity. In Psalm 142:4, David communicates a similar feeling. 

“Look to the right and see: there is none who takes notice of me; no refuge remains to me; no one cares for my soul.” ~Psalm 142:4 

According to Ellicott’s Commentary for English Readers, a protector would stand on your right side. So when David says, “look to the right and see,” he is pointing towards the absence of a protector. In the case of David, he was hiding in a cave while writing Psalm 142, and considering the rest of this psalm, he was feeling pretty alone. Often our security becomes intertwined with our friendship status, and we place our people in charge of our confidence. I used to listen when the inner critic said, “You can be proud of yourself because you have friends who have chosen you. You can be grateful because you have friends.” Those are half-truths, which means they are complete lies. 

In my AP Literature class, I’ve learned if part of the answer is incorrect, the entire option is invalid. Yes, fellowship is indeed a gift from God; however, gratitude is not determined by whether or not God has given me what I want. Yes, having a solid community is a blessing to take pride in, but it doesn’t mean I am worthless without friendships. God shows His love in ways other than answered prayer. The proof of God’s love is not in His choice to provide me with my desire. This season of independence is just as much a blessing as a season of friendships may be; although, it often doesn’t feel that way. 

Coming back to this “friendship is a security blanket” thought, this subconscious belief is often followed with a “don’t judge me, please accept me” mentality when meeting new people. I try to prove my value, desperate to evade the social side-eye or be left on read. I fall into a shell of social anxiety and don’t talk at all, giving in to the inner critic’s unfiltered berating. 

In this ongoing season without my security blanket, I’ve learned two primary lessons: 

1. If it’s a season, there’s a lesson. 
2. You have to develop a one-on-one relationship with God before adding other people. 

I love how people use a book to describe life and chapters to describe its seasons. Every few pages, we get a change in seasons. Just ask Ecclesiastes 3, some seasons are full of abundance, and you can’t read one page without experiencing a lifetime of happy memories. Some seasons are full of hard lessons; you can’t skip anything because skipping this fundamental chapter would be like skipping the character development. Others are full of both; I’m learning hard truths and forming beautiful memories within the same chapter. 

Although I walk through this season without fellowship, I lean on God’s promise to stay close, arms wide open. I also rely on this promise: “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58). God wastes not one hard season. 

Lastly, I’ve learned something about myself in this season. Often I use friendship as a substitute for a relationship with my Maker. God taught me in the past several seasons; He will remove every obstacle if it brings us closer to Him. Friendship became an idol, a security blanket, an excuse for not telling Him my secrets first, so God removed it for a season. Fellowship is a good thing, but to quote my momma, “you have to have good beans and good rice to have good beans and rice. If even one of them isn’t right, the taste comes out all funky.” Until I’m rooted in God and our relationship is strong, it isn’t time to add the rice. 

During this season of isolation, remember it is not for naught, and this season will pass, but don’t get so caught up in waiting for it to pass that you miss the lesson and have to repeat the process. There’s a reason; you just have to be patient and diligent enough to find it.
Until next time, 

-Alycia Dantier