Someone said this to me last weekend, and I've come to the conclusion that it's either alarmingly accurate or frightfully false - depending on which friends you're thinking about as you read this.
Dear reader, you and I are no longer the same people we once were. Of course, there are people I haven't spoken to for over a decade whom I'm sure would be quite surprised to learn about the person I am now, but in a contrary flow of logic (stay with me) I'd argue that some of the people who know me BEST are precisely those whom I HAVE known longest, and the reason is simple: they expected me to change. And this is mostly because they're the kind of people who change too.
Sure, there's a lot to be said for growing up across the road from one another, or being next to each other in the alphabet when the school register's put together, or chancing to be in the same uni tutorial group, but I believe there's more going on than we realise: I believe we naturally identify kindred spirits. So no matter how much time has passed, whenever I tell my dear long-standing friends that I've made a life-changing decision, they're the least surprised of anyone, because they'd do (and typically have already done) exactly the same thing.
But to come back to my earlier assertion that we're not the same people we once were: time, places and experiences all bend and shape our thoughts and lives, but importantly, so too do people. Having recently moved to the other side of the world (see note above about being prone to making life-changing decisions) I suddenly find myself creating new social connections and establishing new friendships, and it's all a terribly interesting experience.
What's that you ask, dear reader? In an age of Skype, instant messaging and Facebook one-liners that help keep me firmly in the midst of the conversations back home, do I need new friends? What a silly question: of course I do. As humans we're social creatures (I more than most: a perceptive colleague once advised that I should never work in a solitary office as I'd end up talking to the plants all day), but more than that, people help us change - and that's (mostly) a wonderful thing.
And so it's here that I finally rest upon my point. This change can be small and uplifting: a fun new friend to go for a pedicure with, or a great new neighbour to recommend the best place to get brekkie at the weekend. Or it can be more significant: a generous new acquaintance to lend you an air bed before your stuff arrives, or a willing contact who'll act as a reference when you realise you can't register the car you've just bought as you have no utility bills in your name (thank you, all of you).
But what it should always be is a positive force in your life. I'm not saying that one's companions need always be cheery and full of sunshine: spending time with people who are going through tough spots often brings out the very best in us, and can be immensely good for the soul. No; the only thing we should guard against is inviting ourselves to be changed for the worse - perhaps becoming angrier, or more judgemental, or even just downright mean (and we've all been around people who make this slippery slope all too easy to find). The key instead is to look for - and welcome - ways to become better.
And friends, old or new, are some of the best catalysts. My wonderful old friends give me the love and encouragement to keep learning and evolving (along with the immeasurable value of a lifelong safety net). My husband brings out in me the person I most enjoy being - that's how I knew he was the guy I wanted to marry. But to be the best version of myself at all times? Well, for that I think I'm going to need some new friends...
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