It’s wild to miss a friend so much it takes your breath away at the same time you realize the friendship just didn’t work. Plain and simple.
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It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault. It doesn’t mean either of you are faulty at friendship. It doesn’t mean you won’t find your way back to each other someday. Maybe.
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Timing plays a role in what does and doesn’t make a friendship work. The traumas in her life, the tragedies in yours—they weigh heavily on the human heart and alter what you have left inside yours to help shoulder the burdens of the other’s.
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Obligations, demands on your time, fear of confrontation, fear of condemnation, different ideas about what friendship entails, lopsided love or contribution and a million other factors can wedge in between you, creating divide.
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And none of that need mean anything more than sometimes it just is what it is. Or isn’t. And it’s normal to miss what once was while accepting what can no longer be.
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That’s just life, loves. And it works this way for all of us. So lift that chin, square those beautiful, solid shoulders and remember who you are. You are a child of God, created on purpose and for good reason. You have immense, immutable value. You are here to learn to love and be loved.
You will.
And you are.
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The fizzling of a few friendships can’t change any of that. In fact, the fadings are often what foster new beginnings. We can’t have one without the other, just like we can’t have love without longing.
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Chin up, shoulders back, full heart out on your sleeve where it belongs. And use every ounce of the pain of loss to learn to love both you and them bigger, better, and bolder than ever.
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Otherwise, why are we here?
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#friends #friendships #girlfriends #friendship #friendshipgoals #relationships #relationshipgoals #breakups #truth #healing #movingon #gettingoverit #growth #love #loveanyway #lovewins #wereallinthistogether #onwardforwardupward #eventhough #insteadofideal #utterimperfection #writersofinstagram #writer #writerscommunity #momblogger #sisterhood #womenempowerment
I grilled Mr. Utter Imperfection for years about what kind of father he intended to be, until he finally threw up his hands in defeat, pleading don’t ask me anymore. Please trust me, please let me show you what a great dad I will be. Or don’t. But please, stop with the incessant line of questioning that no amount of my assuaging will appease.
Trust issues all day every day up in here.
I think all the questioning stemmed from having no idea what even constituted being a good dad.
Nineteen years later, and thanks to my husband, I’ve a well-informed idea now.
A good dad is patient and apologizes when his patience lapses.
He shows up, pitches in, leads, and gives.
He teaches, assists, celebrates, champions, and protects his children and their mother.
He loves at all times even when it’s hard to like.
And he stays. He stays. He stays. In his kids’ lives and thus tucked inside their tender hearts.
I had no idea what makes a dad a good one until my husband showed me. Until I learned perfection isn’t required, possible or even admirable. Until I watched him make mistakes and learn from them, atone for them, and do better by us because of them.
Happy Father’s Day to all the good dads, to all the pseudo dads who do good in the lives of the fatherless, to all the good men who take on the task of loving those their lessers would not. I see you. I celebrate you. ♥️
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#happyfathersday
#marriage #marriedlife
#utterimperfection #startover #newbeginnings #juststart #justbegin #eventhough #insteadofideal #perfectisgross #momlife #motherhood #parenting #parenthood #dadlife #dad #love #ilovemyhusband
Growing up, I could count on two fingers the number of men in my life who believed in me, showed up for me, treated me with respect and dignity, protected me and kept me safe.
One was my grandfather and the other was my high school track coach, Mr. Gilbertson.
All the cool upperclassmen called this teenager whisperer of an educator and coach, "G." But I heard it as Gene, which was his first name. So that's what I called him. One of them called me on it at one point, snarking, "Um, are you calling him Gene?" Um, yeah. Just like you do. Why? "Ha-ha. No, we call him, G." Cue embarrassment. Thing is, G never corrected me. Not once. He was easy like that. He was acceptance and calm in the middle of the rough seas of adolescence.
G had a quiet way of letting you know for certain that no matter what, you mattered. You were unbridled potential. You were appreciated and valued. You were going places. Even though your sad story. Even though your setbacks. Even though everything and everyone to ever tell you differently.
G was a sanctuary in the melee of mean girls and rough boys. He was a rest stop along the arduous journey from childhood to adulthood. Because of him, I found myself in China at the tender age of 16—competing for our country and exploring a foreign one. Because of him, I found myself applying to college. Because of him, I felt emboldened to unfurl and become.
Because of G, I began to understand my inherent worth and that while much of my story to date had been tragedy imposed upon me, I had the power to write a new one—an odyssey about overcoming.
Because of G, I learned there are men who have no desire to harm women or children but instead, endeavor to lift them up and help them fly. Or run. Fast and far from what was and toward the beauty of what can be.
My dear friend—and the reason I passed chemistry and physics—Ryan messaged me this week to let me know Mr. Gilbertson just passed away. I've spent the last few days in full-bloom nostalgia over the man and coach he was and I can’t help but reflect on the father figure he cut.
To all the men who pick up the slack for the men who should be doing the work of ⬇️👇🏼
I hear from you all the time about how pissed off, anxious, saddened, and dejected you are about the wonky process that is healing.
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It’s long. It’s arduous. It’s confusing. It’s exhausting. And often, there’s just no rhyme or reason to it.
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There’s no manual. There are no universal best practices. There’s only what works for you in response to your trauma, in your timing.
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Healing has to be hacked into the bits that work for you—keep those and jettison the rest. Try all the things. Stick with what works and pay no mind to what doesn’t.
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But no matter what, no matter how frustrated you get, no matter how tired, be the kindest to yourself you have ever been while you’re trying to heal. Be the most full of grace for you. Be the most patient with yourself you can be. Treat yourself like the tender, wounded, badass queen who’s about to rise back up that you are. Be soft on you.
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For the world and its hurts have already been harsh enough, don’t you think?
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#BOOZELESS #dry2019 #iquitbooze #makeamericasober #ibrokeupwithalcohol #ODAAT #teetotaler #teamsober
#mysoberjourney #partysober #teamsober #shamelessssobriety #sobrietyrocks #sobernation #soberfun #sobersally #sobersociety #hipsobriety #teetotaler #partysober #mentalhealthquotes #mentalhealthawareness #sisterhood #womenempowerment #empoweringwomen #eventhough #utterimperfection #youcandohardthings #wecandohardthings #myway #mylife #mylove
