If you asked me about community five years ago, I likely would have said that it was overrated and rather non-existent for me. I’d have said that I considered myself to be better off alone, maybe a few low-maintenance friendships here and there to sustain me. After experiencing years of friendship hurt, feeling drained from non-reciprocal connections, and even managing the blows of ended thought-to-be durable friendships unraveling due to unspoken animosity or such similar reasonings, I would have said that I much rather preferred my own company as opposed to that of others. And I’d have stood very, very tall on that hill.
But if you asked me about community at this very moment — after becoming a wife, after becoming a mother, after adjusting to drastic life changes including friendship losses, job layoffs, health issues — I’d tell you that it is necessary.
It is only recently that I’ve come to understand, accept, and experience the power of platonic love. In a society where we tend to scale intimate relationships to being of a higher importance than platonic ones, it’s easy to never open ourselves to the beautiful force that community can actually be.
Platonic relationships are necessary, and they deserve the same commitment and grace that we often give in our intimate relationships. I have found a love in my platonic relationships that reaches quite similar levels of intimate love, yet of course while both remaining their own scopes. It almost feels scarier sometimes, because there is no real responsibility. When you marry, you vow — and sure vows can be broken, but when you enter into friendship, there is no ceremonial sealing. It is a pure choice to share space in each other’s lives, to become a part of each other’s communal bearings.
True and genuine platonic love feels divine. They’re not just the feel-good, going out, having fun, check-in every now and then kind of friendships. They’re the deep, spiritual connections where you can show up at both your worst and your best and still be loved. They’re the connections that will challenge you to heal, to become a better version of yourself. They’re the ones that hold you accountable, have the hard conversations with you, tell you about yourself — all on the account of love. They’re the ones that make community meaningful again, as they have for me.
One thing I can say without a doubt is that I am so glad I opened my heart back up to platonic love. My allotted friendship losses all came with their necessary grievances —some which I tried to harden myself through and others which I leaned into — but if they have taught me anything, it is to leave with love and continue in love. Which is why I can say that today, rather than closing myself off from community after hurt as I have done in the past, I can remain open. Had I remained closed off, I would not have the sisterhood that I know and cherish today. Had I accepted the idea that platonic relationships aren’t as meaningful as intimate ones, that community doesn’t matter, I wouldn’t experience the fullness that I do today. Platonic friendships are important. They are necessary. They are the honey, the nectar that feeds the soul.
A friend of mine recently wrote me a letter that said, in part, “To be your friend is to be celebrated, encouraged, reassured, and comforted.” I hope all of you are able to experience giving and receiving this kind of platonic love through friendship, because it is a strong force and to be absent of community is to be absent of the true depths of love.
