Maybe I Don’t Need to Try So Hard with People

I had a lot of friends when I was growing up. I was friendly with almost everyone in my class. Looking back now, I’m not quite sure how that happened. I don’t remember making any special effort. People just seemed to like me. Maybe it was because I was always smiling.

After living like that for about thirty years, I eventually realized how exhausted I felt from all the tangled relationships in my life. Perhaps that was one of the reasons I chose to move to Germany. In some ways, it may have been a kind of escape.

When I first arrived in Germany, I was truly happy. There were only a few people in my world—my husband, myself, and the family living downstairs whom we greeted occasionally. That was it. Life felt quiet and peaceful.

About six months later, I met several friends at a language school. Among them was an American friend who could speak Japanese, and we became especially close. Our friendship developed naturally, and we have stayed in touch for almost nine years now. We don’t meet very often, but somehow our lives seem to move in similar directions. Whenever we meet, I learn a lot from her, and I always leave feeling warm inside.

Then there is a Korean friend I met in the spring, just before my son Beomsu turned three. At the time, Beomsu was very late to start speaking, so I wrote a post in a Facebook group for Korean mothers. That’s how we got in touch. She also lived in Nuremberg, and it turned out we were the same age. Since then, we’ve become the kind of friends who meet whenever we feel like chatting.

The Turkish family downstairs, who used to be our closest neighbors, eventually moved far away. We still see them occasionally, but now the only friends I have within Nuremberg are those two. In other words, there are only two people I could realistically call and meet up with. Even then, they live about twenty minutes away by car, so it’s not easy to see each other often. Everyone has their own routines, and unless someone lives very close by, it’s hard to truly share everyday life.

Because of that, I started wishing for a friend in the neighborhood. I thought that might happen naturally through Beomsu’s kindergarten.

But Beomsu doesn’t really have a close friend there.

At times, I wondered if it was my fault—that maybe Beomsu’s social difficulties were partly due to the language barrier that made it hard for me to connect with other parents.

So I tried to go to the playground more often. I made an effort to start conversations with people I recognized. Still, because of the language barrier, it was hard for those conversations to go very deep. I haven’t yet met someone who patiently speaks with me while considering my limitations. Of course, everyone is tired and sometimes sensitive while raising children. And since we usually meet only while watching our kids, it’s even harder to keep a conversation going.

Recently, our plans about moving to another area were finally settled. We decided that, for now, we would stay here in Nuremberg. At the same time, I resolved to improve my German. Compared to before, speaking German feels just a little easier now. I started thinking that maybe I could try talking with other mothers a bit more.

If I’m being honest, I think I wanted a few “mom friends.” Mothers I could talk with comfortably—sharing stories about our children’s struggles and strengths, chatting about our husbands, our homes, and the worries on our minds, laughing together about everyday life.

Finally, the long winter ended, and starting last week the days became warm and sunny. Naturally, the neighborhood playground began filling with children again. By now, I’ve become a slightly more experienced mom. I can offer sand toys to other kids without hesitation and start small conversations more easily.

One day last week, I met a mother and child who spoke English. Inside, I thought, Oh! Finally someone in our neighborhood who speaks English. I’d like to get to know her. But even then, the words didn’t come out easily.

I realized that starting a conversation isn’t really about language. It’s something you have to practice.

Still, I gathered my courage and opened the conversation with a simple question:

“How old is he?”

As expected, I could talk about many more things in English than in German. But even so, I didn’t have the courage to ask for her phone number after just one meeting. For a moment I wondered if I simply lacked enthusiasm. But then I realized that asking a stranger for their number the first time we meet just isn’t my style.

Maybe some connections are simply meant to pass by like that.

Just yesterday, we went to the zoo with my American friend’s family. One interesting thing about German zoos is that they always have a big playground. We often end up spending a lot of time there, but I still enjoy looking at the animals, so I visit the zoo from time to time.

Because the weather had become so warm, it seemed like everyone had the same idea. The zoo was packed with people. As we walked around, my American friend ran into several people she knew and greeted them. Watching that, I wondered if I might run into one of Beomsu’s kindergarten friends.

And sure enough, we did meet one at the playground.

I had a brief conversation with the child’s mother in German. I told her that Beomsu often talks about her child at home and that he likes him. She asked me a few questions and spoke in a friendly way.

Our paths seem to cross from time to time, so I thought for a moment, Maybe we could become a bit closer. But still, it didn’t quite feel like the moment to ask for her number.

From the outside, it might look like I’m not trying very hard, as if I’m simply letting things happen. But inside, whenever an opportunity appears, I find myself hesitating and struggling in my own way.

There’s a saying I once heard:

The mothers of your children’s friends are not necessarily your friends.

And the more I think about it, the more it seems true. Relationships formed through children may easily fade once the children’s relationship ends. When the kids drift apart, there’s often no reason for the adults to continue meeting.

Thinking about it that way made me feel a little lighter.

I still deeply hope to help Beomsu develop his social skills, but I also know from experience that relationships can’t be forced. When we try too hard, the relationship often becomes exhausting and eventually falls apart anyway.

So I decided something.

I will keep practicing how to start conversations with people. I will keep practicing small talk. Those are good skills to have—for improving my language and for opening the door to new relationships.

But I won’t rush around desperately trying to create connections.

Instead, I’ll let things unfold naturally.

And somehow, that decision made my heart feel lighter.

Spring has arrived now. There will be more chances to start small conversations. And perhaps, somewhere along the way, a new connection will quietly find its way into my life.