Becoming a better friend

Yesterday I made several phone calls.

Making phone calls isn't notable except that I usually freeze when it's time to pick up the phone to call someone. For old friends, this poses a problem - I seem like I don't care about talking to them, when in fact, I care so much that when I freeze up about returning calls, it's not uncommon for me to lose sleep those same nights.

I simply struggle with picking up the phone. I can eat chicken feet, travel alone in Asia, and live in New York, but I become paralyzed by the idea of talking on the phone.

Of the many correlations I've made between various circumstances in my life and my phone phobia, New York City seems to be among the strongest. 

I'm tired here, so I don't have much energy to talk. I'm afraid that when I talk to friends outside of New York, I'll sound pretencious or spoiled. 

I'm underground on trains (no reception there), at work, or out with friends most of the time, and in the small amount of time I actually have at home, I long for quiet time. I try to escape the self-imposed presure of self-percieved expectations of the people whose calls I should return.

So last night I decided to walk home from work, and on the way I called four people, all of whom I should make more time to talk to.

Among my goals in the coming months is to be more present in the lives of the people I love. By leaving New York City for work in a quieter part of the country, I hope I can spend less of my limited energy supply simply trying to stay afloat, and more of it on staying in touch with friends and family. 

Generally speaking, I hope that this move frees my time and energy so that I can work toward being the person (and not just the professional) and the friend that I want to be. 

Last night I tried to take a step closer to reaching that goal.