The Social Secrets of Women

Until this year, my 9-year old daughter was funny, confident and happy.  She could be a handful, don't get me wrong.  She had a high energy level and a completely inappropriate sense of humor.  (Something I secretly enjoyed, but had to maintain some modicum of my Mommy Disapproves Face.)

This year, though, I have a different child.  She is calmer, which is nice in a way, but it's not borne out of maturity so much as self-consciousness.  She is worried, sad, doubtful.  Depressed, maybe even.

Some of it may be due to the slow beginnings of little bursts of estrogen coursing through her body.  But much of it is due to friendships, or lack thereof.

Girls are so COMPLICATED.  And I AM one, so I should be able to help her through this, right?  Instead, I am suffering from post-traumatic flashbacks of my own middle school years and feeling completely underqualified to be practicing therapy without a license.

It strikes me as ironic that women and their social networks are the support structure of much of life.  We collaborate and empathize.  We diagnose and support.  We make phone calls and send emails.  We Tweet and Facebook.  We mobilize volunteers for everything from class parties to blood drives.  We have playgroups and Mom's Nights Out.  My support network of women, both online and in real life, is what keeps me going some days.  They make me laugh, they watch my kids, they cook me dinner when I'm sick.  They inspire me to be a better mother and a better person.

And yet, as middle schoolers, we were all miserable.  Or so it seems from my informal survey-taking.

I was hoping that 4th grade was some sort of watershed year, where old friendships break up and new friendships begin.  And maybe by next year, my daughter would be in a different social circle, but would be back to having friends and making phone calls and being the happy, confident kid she has always been.

But I have been taking another informal survey of mothers of girls in older grades.  They are all miserable, in some way or another.  None of them feel happy socially.  The popular girls, the smart girls, the athletes, the Student Council officers.

I find this incredibly depressing.  Is it a foregone conclusion that girls have to go through this awkward and miserable social period to come out on the other side as the social collaborators that I know they will one day be? 

Or is there something we can do?

How do we pass on our social secrets to our daughters? 

How do we share that friendships are not black and white, but many beautiful, intermingled colors and textures?  That I have close, deep friendships with women who have completely opposite political opinions, parenting styles and priorities.  That I take from each friendship what I need and give back what I can. 

How do we pass on that someone can make an offhand comment that annoys me one day, but that doesn't mean that I won't drive the carpool the next day.  Or split a bottle of wine the next weekend.  Or offer a hug or a well-placed inappropriate joke.  (Like mother, like daughter?)

How do we give our girls the self-confidence to appreciate friendships for what they are?  To let the snotty comment roll off their backs.  To not take offense when someone sits at a different lunch table.  To not assume it's about them, or against them.  To allow their friends to enrich their lives but not define them.

Somewhere along the way, women learn the secret.  And I'm trying to figure out how to share it.

This is an original DC Metro Moms post.  Sue muses about life and laundry at Laundry for Six.  You can also follow her inappropriate jokes on Twitter, @suewag.