Firstly, I want to say I'm sorry for the loss of people who were there for you when you needed them the most, yet happy that you have other people who you can always rely on to have your back.
A friend of mine died a couple of weeks ago, and it's sent my mind on a weird ride of assessing and re-assessing the people in my life, and the people that used to be in my life but who for various reasons are not there any more.
I think life is too short and too precious to waste it thinking about what comes afterwards - we all need to be better at taking advantage of the here and now and living life while we still have time to do so.
Also, happy birthday - I hope you have lots of great things planned
Hi Damien! Thank you so much! I'm sorry to hear about the loss of your friend. Was it sudden? Unexpected passing seems worse, I think. The pain comes all at once as opposed to stretched out over a period of time? I don't know. But reassessing is good, yes? All the love.
I’m so sorry for your loss. I wish there more people like Joe and Janice out there, but I think you’ll be those types of parents to your kids’ friends, so in that way, their legacy lives on.
Also, I knew you went through a lot in high school, but hells no, I didn’t know you were basically transient and homeless. How you’ve managed to overcome that and thrive is amazing.
I'm so sorry for your loss, but so glad you had Joe, Janice and Natalie as a surrogate family to buoy you through those traumatic times. Just bought How to Do the Work and I'm looking forward to it. I'm down with anything that comes with its own notebook!
As always, much love to you and sending some towards your friends.
Thanks for reading, I really appreciate your time and your comment! My therapist gave me How to Do The Work and I'm finding it so helpful. Her instagram is also really informative, creative and relatable. --> https://www.instagram.com/the.holistic.psychologist/?hl=en
I’m so sorry for your loss. What a sacred act, a ceremony, to get to sift through drawers and closets, peer into cabinets and piece together the intimate mundanity of two unique lives. What a gorgeous way to say “goodbye” and “I love you.”
The relationships I have with the women in my life are the life boats I’ve used time and again to save myself, often from myself. My sisters have saved me from things I can’t even type. My best friend since first grade insisted on paying for my divorce lawyer when she knew I couldn’t afford it and would remain stuck without it. My college girlfriends remind me who I am, who I’ve always been to them, whenever I begin to drift or forget. Life boats all of them, ready to let me flop aboard, choking, spent, when I’m tired of treading water, when I’ve tried to live by one of my old bullshit lines again. “I get along better with guys.” “I’m just not very ‘good’ at being a girl.” Such lame excuses that do nothing but waste time. I think I’ve been afraid of women because we are powerful beyond measure, and the ones I know personally are positively luminescent. I used to be jealous of it, but now I just want to bask in that glow.
I don’t know if you follow the poet Kate Baer on IG (@katejbaer), but she posted a poem on women friendship last week titled “Friend Text Thread” that perfectly describes a relationship and an ongoing text thread I share with two of my closest female loves. Her words made me see our shared daily Wordle scores, our recipe links, our late-night disclosures and accompanying furious support, for what they are: Everything.
Ah, Robyn. Your words are always lyrical, nearly poetic, and I look forward to your comments.
Life boat is a perfect description for my friends. They know me better than family. Unfortunately all my closest are long-distance. Did you read that article in The Atlantic, It's Your Friends Who Break Your Heart? So good.
Like you, I had lots of guy friends and/or preoccupied myself with the man in my life and lied to myself not only about my ability to be friends with women, but told myself I didn't want or need women friends. What a waste. The more women the better! To continue the boat metaphor: A rising tide lifts all boats.
But, unfortunately, for me the truth is that because women are so smart, discerning and powerful, the me with low self-esteem feels threatened. Women see through my bullshit, which makes them scary. Men are easier to fool.
Also, making friends in mid-life is hard. The Kate Baer poem is beautiful. Here's a link if anyone else wants to check it out. https://www.instagram.com/p/CbIZ8EeuodJ/
I did read it, thanks for sharing. I’ve found that in my truest friendships, the root is shared vulnerability. The vulnerability of being alone at college, on one’s own and away from home for the first time. The vulnerability of sharing childhood trauma with someone who then also shares theirs. The vulnerability of navigating new motherhood with other women who’ve also just become mothers. The guard has to be down—and down for real, not in some performative way, which has been very hard for me to recognize in myself. I’ll think I’m sharing but ... am I? What careful things am I leaving out by what I’m sharing?
The older I get, the less I seek all-encompassing friendships and the more I find what I need, and can give, in specific ways with specific people. I’m friends with a colleague who is going through similar logistical nightmares and emotional anguish over ailing parents. We bond through that because she has the capacity to hear and feel me in a way some of my closer (non-work) friends don’t. And that’s OK. That means when one of my close pals asks, “What’s the latest with your mom?” I feel delighted that they asked, not resentful that they don’t more often. It takes a village to be a fully functioning human, and relying on one or two people (be they spouse, sibling, parent or bestest best friend) seems a bit precarious. (And possibly selfish?)
Also, I’ve been reading Rebecca Woolf since before I knew “mommy blogger” was a thing. Since before I was even a mommy myself (and my oldest will be 15 soon). I rooted for her, this young mother who dressed her babies in incredibly cool clothes, and gave them magical names, and told the truth in masterful ways with the written word. I’m happy for you.
This is such a good point to clarify. I think I'm guilty of judging certain relationships as somehow less intimate or less-worthy of my time, only because I'm somehow still seeking that all-encompassing vibe but I should re-evaluate these acquaintances because interactions with these people are still valuable.
Rebecca is even more enchanting a human than her writing would lead you to believe. She has single-handedly changed my entire perception of womanhood, sexuality and friendship. I'm so lucky to know her.
"Like throwing a handful of wildflower seeds into fertile soil, watch their kindness spread and grow and continue to fluorish in each new season of life." This really speaks to me. So glad I found you again. It is lovely going back through all of these posts I missed. Thank you!
Firstly, I want to say I'm sorry for the loss of people who were there for you when you needed them the most, yet happy that you have other people who you can always rely on to have your back.
A friend of mine died a couple of weeks ago, and it's sent my mind on a weird ride of assessing and re-assessing the people in my life, and the people that used to be in my life but who for various reasons are not there any more.
I think life is too short and too precious to waste it thinking about what comes afterwards - we all need to be better at taking advantage of the here and now and living life while we still have time to do so.
Also, happy birthday - I hope you have lots of great things planned
Hi Damien! Thank you so much! I'm sorry to hear about the loss of your friend. Was it sudden? Unexpected passing seems worse, I think. The pain comes all at once as opposed to stretched out over a period of time? I don't know. But reassessing is good, yes? All the love.
My friend had a heart attack. Not even 50 years old, and just became a grandfather for the first time. Definitely unexpected and sucks a lot :-(
I’m so sorry for your loss. I wish there more people like Joe and Janice out there, but I think you’ll be those types of parents to your kids’ friends, so in that way, their legacy lives on.
Also, I knew you went through a lot in high school, but hells no, I didn’t know you were basically transient and homeless. How you’ve managed to overcome that and thrive is amazing.
Thank you for the kind words about Joe and Janice!
Definitely never homeless or transient. I was always welcome in my home, it just wasn't always the best place to be.
I'm so sorry for your loss, but so glad you had Joe, Janice and Natalie as a surrogate family to buoy you through those traumatic times. Just bought How to Do the Work and I'm looking forward to it. I'm down with anything that comes with its own notebook!
As always, much love to you and sending some towards your friends.
Thanks for reading, I really appreciate your time and your comment! My therapist gave me How to Do The Work and I'm finding it so helpful. Her instagram is also really informative, creative and relatable. --> https://www.instagram.com/the.holistic.psychologist/?hl=en
I’m so sorry for your loss. What a sacred act, a ceremony, to get to sift through drawers and closets, peer into cabinets and piece together the intimate mundanity of two unique lives. What a gorgeous way to say “goodbye” and “I love you.”
The relationships I have with the women in my life are the life boats I’ve used time and again to save myself, often from myself. My sisters have saved me from things I can’t even type. My best friend since first grade insisted on paying for my divorce lawyer when she knew I couldn’t afford it and would remain stuck without it. My college girlfriends remind me who I am, who I’ve always been to them, whenever I begin to drift or forget. Life boats all of them, ready to let me flop aboard, choking, spent, when I’m tired of treading water, when I’ve tried to live by one of my old bullshit lines again. “I get along better with guys.” “I’m just not very ‘good’ at being a girl.” Such lame excuses that do nothing but waste time. I think I’ve been afraid of women because we are powerful beyond measure, and the ones I know personally are positively luminescent. I used to be jealous of it, but now I just want to bask in that glow.
I don’t know if you follow the poet Kate Baer on IG (@katejbaer), but she posted a poem on women friendship last week titled “Friend Text Thread” that perfectly describes a relationship and an ongoing text thread I share with two of my closest female loves. Her words made me see our shared daily Wordle scores, our recipe links, our late-night disclosures and accompanying furious support, for what they are: Everything.
Ah, Robyn. Your words are always lyrical, nearly poetic, and I look forward to your comments.
Life boat is a perfect description for my friends. They know me better than family. Unfortunately all my closest are long-distance. Did you read that article in The Atlantic, It's Your Friends Who Break Your Heart? So good.
Like you, I had lots of guy friends and/or preoccupied myself with the man in my life and lied to myself not only about my ability to be friends with women, but told myself I didn't want or need women friends. What a waste. The more women the better! To continue the boat metaphor: A rising tide lifts all boats.
But, unfortunately, for me the truth is that because women are so smart, discerning and powerful, the me with low self-esteem feels threatened. Women see through my bullshit, which makes them scary. Men are easier to fool.
Also, making friends in mid-life is hard. The Kate Baer poem is beautiful. Here's a link if anyone else wants to check it out. https://www.instagram.com/p/CbIZ8EeuodJ/
I did read it, thanks for sharing. I’ve found that in my truest friendships, the root is shared vulnerability. The vulnerability of being alone at college, on one’s own and away from home for the first time. The vulnerability of sharing childhood trauma with someone who then also shares theirs. The vulnerability of navigating new motherhood with other women who’ve also just become mothers. The guard has to be down—and down for real, not in some performative way, which has been very hard for me to recognize in myself. I’ll think I’m sharing but ... am I? What careful things am I leaving out by what I’m sharing?
The older I get, the less I seek all-encompassing friendships and the more I find what I need, and can give, in specific ways with specific people. I’m friends with a colleague who is going through similar logistical nightmares and emotional anguish over ailing parents. We bond through that because she has the capacity to hear and feel me in a way some of my closer (non-work) friends don’t. And that’s OK. That means when one of my close pals asks, “What’s the latest with your mom?” I feel delighted that they asked, not resentful that they don’t more often. It takes a village to be a fully functioning human, and relying on one or two people (be they spouse, sibling, parent or bestest best friend) seems a bit precarious. (And possibly selfish?)
Also, I’ve been reading Rebecca Woolf since before I knew “mommy blogger” was a thing. Since before I was even a mommy myself (and my oldest will be 15 soon). I rooted for her, this young mother who dressed her babies in incredibly cool clothes, and gave them magical names, and told the truth in masterful ways with the written word. I’m happy for you.
This is such a good point to clarify. I think I'm guilty of judging certain relationships as somehow less intimate or less-worthy of my time, only because I'm somehow still seeking that all-encompassing vibe but I should re-evaluate these acquaintances because interactions with these people are still valuable.
Rebecca is even more enchanting a human than her writing would lead you to believe. She has single-handedly changed my entire perception of womanhood, sexuality and friendship. I'm so lucky to know her.
"Like throwing a handful of wildflower seeds into fertile soil, watch their kindness spread and grow and continue to fluorish in each new season of life." This really speaks to me. So glad I found you again. It is lovely going back through all of these posts I missed. Thank you!
I’m glad to be found! Thanks so much for reading and for the kind comment. :)