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Posted by Anne

“Did you know _______ is pregnant again?”

“I didn’t realize they were trying.”

“Yeah, me neither.  And apparently they’re looking to move to a new house.”

“Didn’t they just buy that house a couple years ago?  That seems like a weird financial decision..they’re obviously going to lose money on it.”

“Yeah, I thought so too, but maybe it’s been longer. We’re struggling just to come up with a down payment right now, you know?”

“Yeah, I just can’t imagine throwing that much money into a house right now.  We have so many other priorities.”

“Well, you guys don’t have kids yet.  You’ve got plenty of time for that.  By the way, when do you think you will start a family?”

I can’t say whether or not I’ve had this exact conversation.  But pieces of it?  Snippets?  I regret to say…probably.  No matter how hard we try to show openness to women—to our friends even—we compare.  Sometimes, we even judge.  As we move through college, graduate school, first marriages, and first children—our lives diverge from the friends of our youth.  The points of departure may be minor, but they’re there nonetheless—someone’s taste in furniture and someone else’s marriage choice.

We’re generally curious about the paths our fellow women take, and often times we show them support and love.  But in the corners of our minds rest those nagging comparisons; it’s the part of us that wants to know the choices we’re making are the right ones.  We keep track, because how else will we compare ourselves to those ubiquitous Jones’s?  Unfortunately, Miss (or Mrs.) Jones just might be our dearest friend.

These comparisons—this “measuring up” to our friends and acquaintances—has been on my mind since finishing the novel Commencement, by J. Courtney Sullivan. It’s a (highly entertaining) case study of the unavoidable ways women’s lives diverge—no matter how strong the ties or deep the affection.  In the novel, four young women find themselves rooming next to one another during their first year at Smith.  They forge a four-way friendship of deep passion and brutal honesty—the kind of friendship that springs from shared rooms, shared junk food, shared dreams, and romantic drama.  They continue to criss-cross paths long after graduation, each one marveling at the choices made by the other three, and wondering how they could have changed so much. I loved the book, which captured so many of the emotions of my mid-twenties.  At one point, one of the young women stares at her high school (ex) sweetheart and thinks,

“There are so many ways to be twenty-six years old.”

Read it. Especially if you happened to graduate from college in 2002 and experienced your feminist awakening during your college years:)

This short but poignant sentence stopped me.  I marked it, dog-eared the page, and read it again.  There are so many ways to be 26. Indeed.  There are so many ways to be 16, 26, 30, 36, and on and on. There are as many different ways to be 26 as there are women in this world.  But how often do we give ourselves permission to make unique decisions?  When I talk to someone whose life is moving a different direction than my own, why do I feel the need to silently explain my choices…assure myself I’m headed the right way?  And what on earth is “right”?

Over the past few months, I’ve had ample opportunity for comparison.  I’ve visited my sister, a dear friend from grad school, a dear friend from college, and three of my oldest childhood friends.  These five women—foundational friendships of my childhood, teen, and adult years—have quietly, steadily inched along different paths.  And they all lead lovely, beautiful lives.  I’ve made some choices in common with them, and some unique to myself.  When I’m around these women who share so much of my past—whom I love so much—mostly I feel grateful that they’ve found a way in this world that works for them.  I appreciate their choices, and recognize their uniqueness.

Shouldn’t I feel that—react that way—to all women?

This evening, I’ll don a dress, and attend my final Junior League meeting before the Fall.  I’ll eat catered food and make polite conversation with other women I’m still getting to know.  And what will we do?  We’ll look for common ground.  And most likely?  I’ll compare myself to them…wondering if I’m where I should be.  And I wish I wouldn’t.

There are many different ways to be 30.  My way is just one way of navigating adulthood, and needs no explanation.  Nor does anyone else’s.

Do you compare yourself to other women your age?  Do you ever silently (or not so silently) justify the choices you make?