My therapist in college introduced me to the idea of “evergreen and seasonal friendships.” Essentially, the difference is a friendship that is long-lasting in comparison to a friendship that, although no less valuable, only serves you for a specific period of time. Once that season has passed, so has that friendship. It’s a really digestible way of accepting how connections can change so drastically throughout our lives.
I hated this idea. Aside from not liking change, I was horrified at the potential truth that all of my major friendships at the time were seasonal. Being in my last semester of school, I knew a season of my life would be ending soon, and perhaps with it, numerous friendships.
My line sisters constituted a portion of the friends I was worried of growing out of even though that possibility made no sense to me. You can’t choose your family but you can choose your friends and somewhere in between lay sorority sisters, semi-voluntary bonds meant to be lifelong. (You can’t choose your line sisters either — but you can choose your line name.) Losing that connection would be the exact opposite of everything I spent a intake season committing myself to, prepared for a lifetime in dedication to.
It happened anyway. Within a year of graduating, bonds meant to be thicker than water, comparable to blood but not quite, were gossamer thin and I had no idea how to build them back up. Beyond that, I had no desire to. But I still believed in the organization’s values, sisterhood ironically included, so I started to look for graduate chapters. In my search, which is still ongoing, it has been difficult to not think of my estranged line sisters and my relationships with them.
We look to institutions to build the foundations of our understanding of each other, to provide some shared experiences to bond over. But what are our relationships outside of those structures? Are we still willing and eager to reach out when no one is forcing us to? Without guidance, it’s easy to realize how little we have in common and worse, how unwilling we are to interact in spite of that.
The key to a strong friendship, a longtime friend once shared, is to have at least two of three things: shared values, similar upbringing, mutual kindness & respect. The worth of shared values is self-explanatory and while a similar upbringing can lead to shared values, it can also mean a similar world view or basis of understanding. It is the last, mutual respect and kindness, that’s the most difficult trait to find and at times, even predicated on the first two.
People are willing to connect even if your backstories aren’t the same but if they don’t respect you? If someone has no kindness for you? That’s an associate at best. Similar values don’t equate to a similar mindset, which is so obvious and yet still jarring when reminded the hard way, when despite those shared beliefs the connection is frayed because of a lack of mutual respect.
Ultimately, it’s the willingness to hold each other in consideration that provides the strongest backbone of our friendships. It is thoughtfulness that allows us to recognize mutual values despite different attitudes, to maintain bonds as we grow, to adapt to each other’s changes. And it is the loss of shared kindness that is the first broken brick to eventually bring the whole house crumbling down.
Today marks the centennial anniversary of an organization built upon the ideals of five women who held a shared respect and kindness for each other. The belief in and dedication to their dreams, goals, and values have gone on to connect thousands of women in service of their communities for a hundred years. Lifelong bonds building lifelong bonds from then until now and beyond.
My first set of said bonds only lasted a season. Still connected, but not really, through the dedication of a lifetime, but missing that never-ending respect and kindness. I’ve felt like a failure for losing touch with my line sisters. Remembering my commitment meant pushing past shame and fear, accepting that these weakened bonds did not mean I was unworthy of re-dedicating myself. On the centennial anniversary of stronger bonds than my own, I’m taking time to remember that some friendships are seasonal. It doesn’t make them any less impactful or important, just impermanent.
