A friendship that faded
I was reading another blog (which I won't link, since the writer strikes me as a very private person) and remembered someone I haven't thought about in years.
A college friend of mine moved to Tokyo, married a Japanese man, settled in the 'burbs on the Odakyu line and had a baby. I was living in Los Angeles at the time, and she and I renewed our friendship via email. We wrote each other almost every day for over a year, and sent each other things in the mail that we couldn't get in our respective countries at the time.
I was having trouble making friends with other mothers at parks in LA, when I took my kids to play -- they just didn't talk to me. My friend living in Japan was having similar problems, and instead of blaming it on her particular neighborhood (which I decided was my problem), she blamed Japanese culture at large, and her foreign-ness.
She now has two children and is entirely homeschooling them, to keep them out of the Japanese educational system. When we moved back to Tokyo and we put our kids into the public system, she regaled me with horror stories about how traumatic it would be for them. Fortunately, she was wrong.
Speaking with her was awkward at times, and then she stopped returning my phone calls -- and after a while, I got the hint and stopped making the effort.
I always felt bad about this. The whole time we were emailing each other, I imagined moving back to Japan and hanging out with her while our kids played together. I think she might have imagined the same thing, because I remember she started telling me about apartments in her neighborhood.
But I didn't want to live in the 'burbs -- I wanted to live in central Tokyo, because I knew I would be going back to work fulltime and didn't want a long commute. I knew that if I was going to spend long hours in an office, every single minute of my precious home time with my small kids mattered, and it was worth it to pay extra rent to live closer. Every extra minute that I spent on the train was a minute that I wasn't spending with my kids.
I remember telling her this, and she asked me, if time with your kids is so important, why work fulltime? Why not work part time (like her), and live in the 'burbs (like her)?
There were two main reasons for our decision. One was that Hub and I did the math, and if we lived on his salary alone, or supplemented with a part-time salary of mine, we would have to live in his company housing, which was more than an hour outside central Tokyo. We simply couldn't have afforded rent anywhere closer. So the tradeoff was that the kids would get more time with me, but no time with Hub on weekdays. He would leave very early in the morning, while they were still asleep, and return most nights after they'd gone to bed. This arrangement works fine for some families, but we decided it wasn't what we wanted.
As it turned out, we rented an apartment which was about 10 minutes from Hub's office. So he could be both a workaholic and a dad -- he would come home, eat dinner with us, bathe with the kids, read them a story, and....return to his office.
The other reason I wanted to go back full-time was that I like my job. This is the hot-button reason, the reason that working mothers are supposed to suppress, lest they get labeled selfish and hear that their priorities are screwed up. Which is more or less what my friend implied, when I said it to her.
"Why don't you wait until they're older?" she asked.
Well, I said, because after taking four years off from fulltime work, I feel as if the time is right, for me, for our family, to go back to it.
In over six years in Tokyo, I ran into my friend only once, with her kids at an event. She was with a group of her homeschooling friends, and we spoke only briefly.
I should mention, I have a few other friends who homeschool their kids -- it works very well for some families. So I'm sure I never made any snide comment about her choice, because I truly have nothing against homeschooling and think families should be free to do it if they want to.
Maybe my friend is just one of those people who likes to be around people who are similar to herself? Maybe that's why she had so much trouble adjusting to Japan, and part of the reason why she balked at putting her kids in Japanese school?
And part of the reason why she dropped me as a friend?
I may never know.
A college friend of mine moved to Tokyo, married a Japanese man, settled in the 'burbs on the Odakyu line and had a baby. I was living in Los Angeles at the time, and she and I renewed our friendship via email. We wrote each other almost every day for over a year, and sent each other things in the mail that we couldn't get in our respective countries at the time.
I was having trouble making friends with other mothers at parks in LA, when I took my kids to play -- they just didn't talk to me. My friend living in Japan was having similar problems, and instead of blaming it on her particular neighborhood (which I decided was my problem), she blamed Japanese culture at large, and her foreign-ness.
She now has two children and is entirely homeschooling them, to keep them out of the Japanese educational system. When we moved back to Tokyo and we put our kids into the public system, she regaled me with horror stories about how traumatic it would be for them. Fortunately, she was wrong.
Speaking with her was awkward at times, and then she stopped returning my phone calls -- and after a while, I got the hint and stopped making the effort.
I always felt bad about this. The whole time we were emailing each other, I imagined moving back to Japan and hanging out with her while our kids played together. I think she might have imagined the same thing, because I remember she started telling me about apartments in her neighborhood.
But I didn't want to live in the 'burbs -- I wanted to live in central Tokyo, because I knew I would be going back to work fulltime and didn't want a long commute. I knew that if I was going to spend long hours in an office, every single minute of my precious home time with my small kids mattered, and it was worth it to pay extra rent to live closer. Every extra minute that I spent on the train was a minute that I wasn't spending with my kids.
I remember telling her this, and she asked me, if time with your kids is so important, why work fulltime? Why not work part time (like her), and live in the 'burbs (like her)?
There were two main reasons for our decision. One was that Hub and I did the math, and if we lived on his salary alone, or supplemented with a part-time salary of mine, we would have to live in his company housing, which was more than an hour outside central Tokyo. We simply couldn't have afforded rent anywhere closer. So the tradeoff was that the kids would get more time with me, but no time with Hub on weekdays. He would leave very early in the morning, while they were still asleep, and return most nights after they'd gone to bed. This arrangement works fine for some families, but we decided it wasn't what we wanted.
As it turned out, we rented an apartment which was about 10 minutes from Hub's office. So he could be both a workaholic and a dad -- he would come home, eat dinner with us, bathe with the kids, read them a story, and....return to his office.
The other reason I wanted to go back full-time was that I like my job. This is the hot-button reason, the reason that working mothers are supposed to suppress, lest they get labeled selfish and hear that their priorities are screwed up. Which is more or less what my friend implied, when I said it to her.
"Why don't you wait until they're older?" she asked.
Well, I said, because after taking four years off from fulltime work, I feel as if the time is right, for me, for our family, to go back to it.
In over six years in Tokyo, I ran into my friend only once, with her kids at an event. She was with a group of her homeschooling friends, and we spoke only briefly.
I should mention, I have a few other friends who homeschool their kids -- it works very well for some families. So I'm sure I never made any snide comment about her choice, because I truly have nothing against homeschooling and think families should be free to do it if they want to.
Maybe my friend is just one of those people who likes to be around people who are similar to herself? Maybe that's why she had so much trouble adjusting to Japan, and part of the reason why she balked at putting her kids in Japanese school?
And part of the reason why she dropped me as a friend?
I may never know.
posted by L. at 4:34 PM
5 Comments:
Sometimes friendships just run their course. I have had several friends that I was extremely close to for certain periods of my life, but once those times were over, it seemed like it took so much more effort to be friends, then to even stay in touch. It's kind of sad, and it's even sadder when you still WANT to be friends, but other person has moved on.
As for me, I like having friends that I can occasionally argue with, and still come out of the conversation as friends.
maybe you were the right people at the right time and that time was fleeting.
I heard so many similarities between your story and one of mine.
It was hard for me having to try and fill in the not knowing.
sometimes friendship is easy, and sometimes it's hard. and sometimes you never know why it ends. i wish we could find out, though, so maybe we can avoid losing a friendship next time.
FWIW, i really have a hard time making friendships with japanese women. what is wrong with me??
Maybe my friend is just one of those people who likes to be around people who are similar to herself? Maybe that's why she had so much trouble adjusting to Japan, and part of the reason why she balked at putting her kids in Japanese school? - IMO, yes
I have experienced very similar situations. (I also work full-time) No ass-vice, just posting to say you are not the only one.
It's difficult to let go when there's not really a closure, or a real reason.
It's happened more than once to me and I just have to tell myself that, it's not me, I didn't cause it. But at times it creeps back into my memory and I wish things were different because I really would like it if they were still my friends.
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