How to Be a Good Friend

Yeah, I have no idea.

There are people who think I'm an awesome friend.  There are people who think I'm a horrible friend.  And there are people who've thought both at different times in our relationship.

I've thought both about myself, too.

Being a good friend is such a subjective thing.  Everyone has a different idea about what makes a good friend.  About what makes a close friend or a best friend.  Even about the difference between a friend and an acquaintance.

I've probably put way more thought into this than most, because I feel it's something I struggle with.  And it's something I think I should want to change.  I tried to want to change.  I even tried to change.  But I think I'm done.

I'm at a point in my life right now where I'm just gonna be me.

I'm not going to be what others want me to be just to avoid guilt or to feel like I'm measuring up to some mysterious golden friendship crown.

Because, to be honest, I just don't have the energy.  If you need a lot of output from your friends, if you need attention (really, any attention) to believe I care and we're friends, you shouldn't choose me as a friend.

I can do great short term.  Maybe we meet when we both have a mutual need.  Or one of us has a need when the other of us has a surplus, and we connect.  We're good for each other and good with each other.

I can drop everything to help you with your crisis.  For a while.

But then, for whatever reason, I just don't have anything else to give.  Maybe it's because my life has so many recurring and ongoing crises.  Maybe it's because of my chronic fatigue or my bipolar disorder.  Maybe it's because I'm just a crappy friend.

And then I will disappear.

Not on purpose.  Not because I'm trying to be mean.  Not because I'm consciously deciding I don't want to be your friend.  But because I have to take care of myself.  And taking care of myself often means neglecting everything and everyone but my family.  Sometimes everyone other than myself.

I will retreat.  For who knows how long.  You might reach out.  You might not.  When I'm gone like this, I probably won't reach back.  I might not even acknowledge you've tried to contact me.

I see you reaching.  I sense your need.  But I can't fill it.  And you can't fill mine.  Because I need to be alone and lick my wounds or find my way.  Or whatever.

I know I've wounded people with this behavior.  I see it.  But I'm doing triage, and I just can't see your need to be with me as a life or death thing.  Or if I do, I pray someone else will treat it, because my hands are tied behind my back.

Sometimes my behavior causes others to pull back, hoping I'll notice they've left and their absence will cause me to reach out.  But that doesn't work.  Because if I notice, which is a big if, it's entirely possible I will just be grateful to not have to fix it.  To not have to figure out the steps to the dance we were engaged in, where I was stepping on your toes.  I'll just be glad the dance is over and head to the punch.

I just truly don't know how to do the dance and am no longer interested in learning.

This is the kind of friend I can be now.  I can be happy when good things happen in your life.  I can be glad to see you when we run into each other.  I can occasionally muster the energy, physically and emotionally, to do something together.  I will think kindly of you when something reminds me of you.  And no matter how much time has passed, I will still consider you my friend.

It doesn't take much for me to consider someone my friend.  Do I know you?  Have we had positive interactions?  Yeah, that's about it.  That's all it takes.

If we're not friends, and you want me to feel that way too, you'll probably have to tell me.  Even then, I'm not sure I wouldn't still introduce you as my friend should the need arise for me to introduce you.

And if you choose to move on, if you decide (for whatever reason) that you're better off without me, I'll most likely wish you well and let you go.  I won't argue.  I won't ask you to stay.  It's just not in my nature.  I'll support your growth in whatever way you seek it.

I know a lot of this will sound harsh to many people.  That's okay.  We're all just finding our way.  And this is just one little trip on the journey of my psyche.  It's a crazy, winding path that's sometimes light and sometimes dark, but always mine.

Why I Asked for Support

A few days ago I wrote a post explaining that I was in a dark and difficult place and asking for prayers and happy thoughts in my behalf.  I am so grateful to everyone who responded and all those who offered prayers, happy thoughts, positive energy, and love.  I believe greatly in the power of all of these.  I have felt lifted in so many ways.  While I do not believe I am out of the woods just yet, I am improved.

It was a rough month.  Two back to back episodes of PTSD followed by a major depression, all while experiencing a new health struggle.  It was a seriously dark place I was in.  And, as is the nature of depression, it was a little too comfortable.

But there was a tickling in the back of my mind that said, "It doesn't have to be this way.  You can be happy.  You like being happy."  All of those things are difficult to remember when I'm in that dark place.

And asking for help was hard.  I grew up in a home where we were taught fierce independence.  We help others.  We don't need help.  We don't discuss our problems with others.  We don't complain.  We suck it up and get back to work.  We push through it.  I lived that way for many years.

That way is a lie!  I want to scream it from the rooftops.  That is not what this life is meant to be!  In our society, independence is praised and revered.  But independence is only a stepping stone.  True mental health is interdependence.  This needs to be said more.  This needs to be taught in our schools and homes and churches.  True mental health (and spiritual health) is interdependence.  Interdependence means we do everything for ourselves that we possibly can and ask for help when we need it.  It means we know enough to see when we're over our heads or in unfamiliar territory.  And we ask for help for those things we can't do for ourselves.

As a religious person, I believe that independence is a beautiful lie to keep us from relying on God and turning to each other.  A lie focused on the importance of self.  I believe we are meant to be interdependent with our fellow man AND with God, not just one or the other.

One strong person can do a lot.  Many strong people, interconnected, can change the world!  No wonder the powers of evil want to stop it.

Those are the underlying reasons I asked for help.  Mostly it was because I was in such a bad way and needed to feel the strength of others.  I needed to not feel so alone.  I needed to see the goodness of the incredible people in my life (including my cyber-life).

And it was because I want to practice what I preach.  I want to know when my friends and family are struggling.  I want to be a support to them.  I want to pray for them.  I want to reach out to them.  I want to tell them I love them when they need it the most.  I want to hurt with them.  I want to cry for them.  And I can't do any of those things if I don't know they are not okay.

It would be hypocritical of me to ask others to tell me when their world is dark if I am not willing to do the same.

My world is brighter today.  My burden is lighter.  Because of the light and strength offered freely by others.  Thank you so much for that.  And thank you to those who open their hearts and share with me when they aren't okay.  You are brave and strong and I am better for the time we have together.

My Therapy Necklace

My first day of therapy was difficult.  I'd known for years I needed therapy.  I wanted to find peace, to settle my heart, to make the fear stop.  But I was scared.

I'd gone to therapy with my husband many times, as his coach.  I was there to help him in his battle against OCD and the toll it was taking on our family.  I liked his therapist.  I trusted him.  And he's the one I chose to see when I finally found the courage (or the desperation) to fight my own demons.

As my therapist explained it, that first visit was about assessment.  We take off the bandage, he examines the wound, and we see how bad it really is.  It starts with me telling my story.

I hadn't ever told my story.  Not all of it.  A few pieces to my husband, but that's all.  I had just lived with it.  Embarrassed and ashamed.  For so many years.

That first session was so hard.  I told my story.  Very linear.  Without much emotion, just facts.  I'd quit feeling about it a long time ago.  I wasn't anywhere near finished with the story when our hour was up.  (It ended up taking three full sessions to get the whole thing out.  Which ended up not being the whole thing because there was still a lot I wasn't ready to tell.)

But the session was over.  He said I'd done well.  He said you can tell how often a person has told their story by how long it takes them to tell it.  The more you tell it, the less detail you need and the faster it goes.

He validated that I was wounded.  He said I should be proud of myself and celebrate the good work I'd done.  I was clueless.  I don't celebrate well.  Definitely not my own accomplishments.  He suggested treating myself.  Again, clueless.  He told me some things others had done.  He suggested that I find a way to mark the moment because it mattered.

I told him I would think about it and see what I could do.  Thus, my therapy necklace was born.

I went to the charm store.  I found a charm to represent everything important in my battle for peace.

*  A simple black cord just long enough to position it right over my heart.  Tied in a knot so I can add or remove charms.
*  A charm to represent me, at the center of the cluster.  Initially this was very nondescript.  It was about an inch in diameter, circular like a washer, pounded dark metal, rough edges.  An undefined shape that each person could interpret differently.  Kind of like I felt about myself.  Undefined.  Interpreted differently by different people.  Nondescript.  This has since been replaced.
*  A charm that says PEACE.  This is what I'm searching for.  This is what the work is for.
*  A small book that opens.  On the cover it says My Story.  This was to mark the fact that I'd finally reclaimed my story as my own and chosen to tell it.  It's my story to tell.
*  A charm that looks kind of like a small metal tablet, rough edges.  It has a zodiac sign on it.  This charm represents the boy who repeatedly abused me as a child.  This is his sign.  I have done the work.  He no longer has power over me.  This is to symbolize my victory over that part of my past.
*  A charm of two clasped hands.  They could be seen as a handshake, but when I look at it I see one hand reaching down to grasp the hand of another and help them out of a dark hole.  Adding strength to the cause.  Lifting me up.  This charm represents all those who helped me in my dark times.  My therapists.  My ecclesiastical leaders.  My friends.  My husband.  My kids.  People in my group therapy class.  All those who made my burden a little lighter, sometimes just by believing in my ability to carry it.
*  A starfish charm.  This charm represents a special friend.  A woman I found at just the right time.  A woman who understands and reaches my soul because she has experienced much of what I've experienced.  She has an affinity for things of the sea.  She calms me in a way others can't.
*  A charm of my own making.  An amalgam of several charms connected to make one.  This charm represents the spiritual element to my healing.  It contains a star of David to represent God; a cross to represent Jesus Christ; and a bird to represent the Holy Ghost.  God is guiding me in this healing process.  He wants me to succeed.  Each member of the Godhead plays an important roll.  Without Them, I would not heal.  It helps me to remember that They are with me in my quest.  On this charm there is also a pair of hands in prayer.  This represents my grandmother.  She taught me to pray.  She was the spiritual strength in my life for so many years.  Without her guidance, I may never have developed the connection I have with God which facilitates my growth and healing.
*  And the new charm which represents me.  The old one broke.  Rather symbolically for me.  The undefined me was replaced.  I now have a charm I earned completing a religious program.  It brought me closer to God.  It helped me understand who I am and the role I am to play.  It helped me understand my value.  And it reminds me that I can do hard things -- because I am divine.

A black cord with a cluster of silver charms.  Probably less that $20 to create.  But priceless to me.

There will be more charms.  I have other things yet to overcome, demons to fight.  And my therapy necklace reminds me that I am powerful.  I am strong enough to face whatever comes my way.  And I don't have to do it alone.

Counting My Blessings

My best friend is sick.  Not a little sick.  Really, really sick.

It started about six weeks ago.  She'd been sick for about two weeks before I even knew she was struggling.  Part of that was because she is a private person and didn't really let anyone know.  Part of it was because I was pretty sick at the time.  And part of it is because I take her health for granted.

Two months ago she was the healthiest person I knew.  She's a little older than me, but much healthier.  She had more energy.  She was a doer.  She was always on the go, ate well, never got sick.  I just assumed I hadn't heard from her because she was busy.  And I was too miserable to worry about anyone else.

Then I found out she was sick.  That kind of rocked my world.  She doesn't get sick; how is this possible?

I was on my way out of an illness.  I tried to check on her every day, calling or visiting.  Little by little she got worse.  She lives alone so there was no one there to monitor every day at first.  As we realized this was for the long haul, her friends started stepping in.  Weeding her garden.  Doing her shopping.  Washing her dishes.  Cleaning her house.  Preparing her meals.  It was a beautiful chorus of service.  All of us doing what we could to help.

I did a little.  I wanted to do more.  I wanted to move in and take care of her.  But that wasn't possible.  I wasn't well enough and it wasn't what she wanted.

Another friend did step up and take over the lion's share of the load.  I will be forever grateful to her for that.  She gave with her whole heart and soul to a woman I love as dearly as if she were my own sister.  Every act of service she performed felt like it was for me, because she was doing for my friend what I couldn't.

My best friend continued to decline.  She doesn't believe in traditional western medicine and was taking a more natural approach.  It was difficult to watch her not heal faster and respect her feelings on her care.  She was hurting a lot.  Swollen.  Sleeping 20 hours a day.  Losing her appetite.  Losing weight.  Severely fatigued.  It broke my heart to see her because she was so altered.

Then she started to improve.  For a couple of weeks she seemed to be getting better.  The pain and swelling went away.  She was able to move easier.  As gradual as it was, it seemed to be getting better.  And we continued to respect her desires for her care.  (There were some who tried to convince her to see a doctor, but those of us closest to her supported her.  Out of love and the belief that she has the right to choose for herself.)

But last week she took a turn for the worse.  An obvious downturn.  And it was scary.  And when it got to a certain point, the person she sees for her healing told her it was time to consult a doctor.  The doctor told her she needed IV fluids and lots of tests, but she could choose to do them on an outpatient basis or be admitted to the hospital.  The decision was hers.  She chose to be admitted.

So I have spent the last two days in and out of the hospital.  Helping her get admitted and settled.  Speaking on her behalf because it's just so hard for her.  And trying to comfort her, if only with my presence in the room.

And the feeling I am overwhelmed with is gratitude.  I am so grateful that I am not that sick.  I am so grateful that her caretaker was humble enough to ask for help.  I am so grateful she was willing to take a new direction, one that was so hard for her, and that the decision was hers.  I am so grateful for all the people who have helped her every step of the way.  I am grateful that all the medical personnel now involved have been respectful of her choices up to this point, never chastising her for waiting to involve traditional medicine.

But the thing I am the most grateful for is that I am well now.  I couldn't be there in the beginning and not much in the middle, but I can be there now.  When it's the darkest.  My health and life are allowing me to spend hours and hours by her bedside or running her errands.  My family supports me and hasn't complained of my absence once.  I get to be with my friend.  The way I want to be.

And she is improving.  I am so, so grateful for that.  I will never take her for granted again.

Why Doesn't the World Stop?

The first funeral I remember attending was for a baby. I was fourteen. It was my cousin's baby. I hadn't met the baby and wasn't close to this cousin. But that funeral has stuck with me.

Before the funeral started there was a family prayer in another room. I was there. I heard them pray for the parents and family. I heard them pray for the babysitter, who had found the baby in the crib. Not breathing. Crib death. And I remember the sound my cousin made when they closed the coffin. A tiny gasp escaped her. The sound of her heart breaking.

I cried throughout the funeral. Not because I would miss this baby; I probably wouldn't have seen her more than once or twice in her lifetime. I cried because of the overwhelming pain in the room. So many people. So devastated.

I'd missed school to attend the funeral. My mom offered to let me skip the rest of the day, but I had classes that I shouldn't miss. So I went back to school.

And I didn't understand.

Why was everyone walking around like there was nothing wrong? Did they not understand that a tragedy had occurred? It seemed so irreverent. How could they be so heartless? People giggling, are you kidding me? Nothing in the rest of the world had changed.

Why? Why didn't the world stop? Something so horrific had happened. A tiny, innocent child had died and no one cared. The world didn't care. It was difficult for me to process.

And later that day I noticed myself talking with friends and laughing. I felt horrible! How could I just move on? How could I feel better when my cousin was so terribly sad? What a horrible person I was.

Fast forward twenty years. My marriage is in shambles. My health is failing. I am in therapy, borderline suicidal. I am self-injuring and taking sedatives just to make it through each day. And my boss, who is one of my best friends and a therapist, keeps giving me more work. I am dying inside. My heart is breaking. I can barely get out of bed. He knows this. Why won't he give me a break? Doesn't he understand that I just want to rest? I just want to stop. I just want to not exist for a while.

Yes, he understands all of that. And he knows me. He knows that isn't healthy for me. He tells me that he knows he's giving me more and it's hard, but he worries that if he doesn't I will disconnect from the world. I will sink so far into a depression that I might not come out. He is doing this to help me. Because he loves me and worries about me. It's his way of trying to protect me.

That happened about seven years ago. It was the worst time of my life. But I got through it. The world kept spinning and I had to go on. My friend was right. There is power in continuing. I had time to heal, but I also had something to keep me connected to the world.  To keep me moving forward.

The world doesn't stop. Everything just keeps on going. And I have come to believe that's an incredible gift. It is unhealthy for us to just give up and quit. Take a break and take time to mourn, of course. I am not saying that's not important. But we must keep going or we die. Maybe not our bodies, but our hearts and souls.

If we stop at the point of the most intense pain then that is where we will live. We will be forever in a hell of our own making. We didn't chose the tragedy, but we choose whether or not to sit and stare at it for the rest of our lives. And if the world didn't keep going on around us, if we didn't still have obligations to meet and people to take care of, it would be too easy to just sit in our pain. Forever.

Fact Check: A True Friend is Always There for You

Poppycock!  Seriously, I'm calling a big baloney on this one.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that this is a girl truism.  We women think this is true.  We tell other women it's true.  We all want to have that kind of friend.  We all feel pressure to be that kind of friend.

Well, let me tell you right now, I don't believe this kind of friend exists.  I don't believe this person exists.  And if she does, she is very unhealthy emotionally.

Let's talk about a real friend.  Let's call her Jane.  Jane is a great friend.  She loves you and supports you.  She listens to you when you are struggling.  She calls you on it when you are avoiding things out of fear.  She loves you even after you yell at her when you're having a bad day.  She is a great friend.

But Jane has crises in her life, too.  Jane sometimes leaves town.  Jane sometimes gets sick.  Jane sometimes gets angry with you and doesn't want to talk to you.  Jane sometimes has emotional breakdowns and has nothing left for you.

When you've had a fight with your husband and think your world is ending, Jane may be dealing with the loss of her dear mother.  She just can't comfort you right now.

Sometimes Jane just isn't there for you.

Why?  If Jane is a true friend, why won't she put everything in her life aside to make you feel better?

Because she is a person, too.  And she's not in charge of making you happy -- you are.  She is in charge of making herself happy and taking care of her emotional needs.

That's why we all need a support system.  Not just a best friend.

As part of self-care, it's your responsibility to build a support system for yourself.  No one is going to do it for you.  People aren't just going to fall into your life and become important to you and supportive of you without any effort on your part.  You have to reach out.  You have to open up.  You have to risk rejection and find those people.  And it will probably take many of them to get you through this life.  Because life is tough and we need others.

No one should be the ONLY person in the world who understands you and can help you through.  That's just not a kind position to put someone in.  It's unrealistic and it's selfish.  Even if it's your spouse.

Reach out.  Make friends.  Find support.  Let your friends be real people. 

And if you're Jane, quit trying to be everyone's saving grace and just be Jane.  A good friend who helps and supports when it's healthy to do so.

Thank You for Touching My Life

The other day I was privileged to participate in a two-day activity for our church youth group called Youth Conference.  Over the course of those days there were many activities, from physical to spiritual.

One of those activities involved a partner.  Everyone in the room partnered with someone else.  We stood facing each other, within about half an arms reach.  Then we followed instructions as led by the speaker.  The last instruction really got me.  "Look this person in the eye and imagine what you would say to them if this were the last time you were ever going to see them.  Tell them."

I was caught off guard by the emotion this evoked in me.  My partner was a lady from our neighborhood who has become a good friend of mine.  She has been supportive and understanding in a way most people aren't.  She truly cares about me and doesn't hide it.  She is genuine. 

And in that moment I truly thought about losing her.  My eyes welled up with tears.  I had difficulty speaking clearly.  And I thanked her for touching my life.  If we were never to see each other again, I would want her to know she made a difference.  And I am grateful.

I am grateful for many things.  I live in a time and place where most of life's basic hardships aren't a factor.  I have food, shelter, heat, money, a bed, clothes, electricity, clean running water, access to health care.  I have so many things that so many people in the world don't have.  And I am grateful for those things, even though I don't notice them most days.

But what I do notice are the people in my life.  I notice them every day.  I feel their impact every day.  They shape who I am.  They enrich my existence.  They are the whipped cream that makes my life sweeter.  They are the duct tape that keeps me together when I am falling apart.

I am incredibly blessed to have had so many wonderful people touch my life at one time or another.  And I am grateful for all of them.  For the ones who are still around and the ones who just passed through.

To all of you -- thank you for touching my life.  I am better for it.

Ending a Relationship

He was sobbing.  He didn't understand how she could do this.  Had it all been a lie?

I remember standing with my friend as he faced the end of his marriage.  She said she never loved him.  She said it had always been terrible.  And his heart was breaking because he just didn't understand.

My heart was breaking for him.  She was also my friend, but I was hurting for him.  This was something she was doing to him.  She was hurting him.  She was the bad guy.  I never got her side of the story.

When a relationship ends it's easy to feel like we need to take sides.  Those of us on the outside seek to understand so we know who's side to be on.  Maybe not always, but often enough that we should be ashamed.

No matter how close we are to the situation, we are not those people.  We do not feel what they feel.  We have not experienced what they experienced.  We do not know why they made the choices they did.  And no matter what is said or who is blamed, we probably have no real way to know what happened.

I have never ended a marriage.  I have never had my spouse end a marriage.  But we did come close.  I did ask him to move out.  And he was so angry. 

I didn't understand.  I was trying to save our marriage.  I believed that separating would help us figure out what was wrong and heal without being in such close proximity that we were destroying each other.  He felt rejected and powerless.

And that's why being in relationships is so scary.  We are giving power to the other person.  By choosing to love someone, we are giving them the power to hurt us.  Sometimes relationships end because both people want them to.  Other times, one person chooses to end it and the other person is at their mercy.

This is true of any relationship that involves love.  When you love and value someone, and they remove themselves from your life, it hurts.  It could be a parent.  It could be a child.  It could be a friend.

For me, it was a friend.  I am the one who ended it.  And I am seen by many as the bad guy.

I guess I am, in a way.  I didn't handle it well.  I was so afraid of hurting her that I was not direct.  I slowly removed myself from her life.  Little by little we were just no longer connected.

Friendships are tricky things to end.  It's not like you file for a divorce from a friend.  Where is the line?  How do you tell when a friendship is over?

I was not angry.  I do not think she is a bad person.  In fact, I think she is an incredible person.  I admire her a great deal.  But for whatever reason the friendship was no longer good for me.  I think we grew in different directions.  I think we both changed so much that we didn't fit together any more.  Even after trying to put it back together a couple of times, it just no longer felt right.  It felt forced and fake.

The relationship was not good for me.  I'm not saying she wasn't good.  We weren't good together.  I was unhappy.  I wanted out.  The more I tried to make it work, the worse I felt about myself.  I was being untrue to myself by pretending I could make it work.

Ending our friendship hurt her.  I am sorry about that.  I hate the fact that I caused her pain.

But it is my responsibility to take care of myself.  Our relationship was causing me pain.  Maybe that is selfish, but I believe it is what was right for me.  I wish there were a way for me to make the decision that is right for me without making a decision that caused her pain.  I couldn't find one.  And I did try.

We had many good years together.  I am a better person because of her influence in my life.  I think of her often and hope she is happy.

And I know I made the right choice.

A Princess Story

Once upon a time there were three princesses:  Gwendolyn, Donatella, and Genevieve.  They lived in an enchanted realm, in neighboring kingdoms.

One day a new princess, Princess Bobbie, moved to the realm and brought her kingdom with her.  Only she didn't know that she was a princess.  You see, that's something about being a princess -- sometimes you forget.

As she was out exploring the realm, Princess Bobbie met the three princesses.  (The three princesses were often together; it helped them remember that they were princesses.)  She was mesmerized.  These princesses glowed.  And they glowed because they were magic!  They weren't the ordinary kind of magic, the kind where everyone can do the same things.  They each had their own special magic and it was exactly the kind of magic needed for their own kingdom.

Princesses aren't what most people think.  They aren't superior and unkind.  They are welcoming and inclusive, and Princess Bobbie was thrilled to be invited into their circle of friends.  As she spent more and more time with them she began to remember who she was.  Her magic began to return.  And that was a very good thing because an evil spell had come over her kingdom; they needed her magic.  So Princess Bobbie left to protect her kingdom.  Things got better and she returned to find her princess friends.  And they were happy together again.

But the evil spell isn't ever fully conquered, it is just cast out of a kingdom.  And over time it was evident that when the spell left one kingdom it would eventually find its way to another.  Sometimes it found its way to one of the other princesses' kingdoms.

If it attacked a kingdom while the princess knew who she was, she was able to defeat it.  But if she was a little unsure of herself, if she couldn't see her own magic anymore, the evil could overwhelm her.

And one of the laws of magic and spells was that each princess had to defeat the evil in her own kingdom.  The other princesses couldn't do it for her.  All they could do was cheer for her.  And try to remind her of who she was and to help her find her magic again.

But the evil tried to keep the princesses apart.  The evil knew that the princesses were stronger when they were together, that their magic grew as they spent more time with each other.

The evil also knew that being a princess is hard.  It can be a very lonely thing.  Especially when a princess forgets who she is.  That's why the evil worked to make each princess feel like she didn't belong or wasn't good enough to be with the other princesses.

But the princesses love each other.  And they are strong.  And they will keep fighting their battles and strengthening each other.  And although one may get lost every now and then, the glow from the others will always lead her back to them.  And the princesses will welcome her back where she belongs and help her remember who she is and the power she has.  Because that is what princesses do.

My Beautiful Neighborhood

Tonight, as I let the dog in, I took the opportunity to admire my neighborhood.  I stood on my porch and looked at the homes within my immediate view and was overwhelmed with love and gratitude.

I am incredibly fortunate to live in my neighborhood.  I love the location.  I love the view from my porch.  But most of all, I love my neighbors.

There are some younger than us, some older than us, and a few of the wise and wonderful generation.  And each of them has touched my life in some way.

Our immediate neighbors have been incredibly understanding and forgiving during times when the volume between my husband and me was intense.  And again when my children held a picnic on their porch and didn't clean it up.  They have been kind and helpful.  They have watched over us.  They have been an emergency contact for my children when we were away; I felt comforted knowing they were there for my kids.

The ones on the other side I don't know as well.  The parents only speak Spanish and I don't.  We haven't really connected verbally.  But they have been polite and friendly.  We wave at each other with a big smile.  Even without many words, there is a tenderness there.  An understanding that we are neighbors.

Across the street is my neighbor who is 95 (give or take a year).  He frequently walks across the street and visits with me and my kids when we're in the yard.  He brings us produce from his garden.  He talks to my kids about the activities they are involved with.  He tells me about his family and all that they are up to.  And he loves us.  In the way he talks to us and smiles at us, I know that he does.

And all along the street I can see people who are kind to me.  People who have helped me.  People who look out for me and my kids.  People who see when I'm having a bad day and give me a hug.  People who look past the irritating things we do and are still our friends.  People who've had hard times and learned lessons and shared them.  People who speak with love from their heart.  People who are open to connecting and aren't afraid of being loved.

I hear of people who don't get along with their neighbors or who live in unsafe neighborhoods and I am sad.  I wish everyone had a neighborhood like I do.

Each of these people has touched my heart.  Each of them has served me at one time or another.  And if asked each of them would probably say that they didn't do much.  But isn't that the point of a neighborhood?  If we all do a little to take care of each other, everything important will get done.

Letter to a Friend -- Take Two

I think it's safe to say that I am in a heavily therapeutic place right now.  Focused on healing so much that I miss a lot.  One thing that proved this to me was my last post.

I don't think it was overly negative or anything, but it didn't even occur to me to write something positive.  Something praising.

Today it occurred to me.  So I want to try again.  There are so many people who have touched my life.  So many who saved me.  From myself.  From bad situations.  Whatever.

This is for them, with one in particular in mind.

**********

Dear Friend,

My heart is overflowing.  I have so much gratitude I don't know how to express it.  When I think of you, and the time we've spent together, I am ovewhelmed at my fortune.  I know God brought you into my life.  I am sure of this.

Do you know that you are God-like in your nature?  Do you know how much you radiate His love?  His tenderness?  His compassion and acceptance?  Do you know that hugging you is like being wrapped in His arms?

You make me feel safe.  You make me feel valued.  You make me feel wanted.  Do you know how rare that has been in my life?

You are amazing.  You fill me with awe.  I look at your life, at all you've been through, and wonder how you became so radiant.  How were you able to endure the darkest things in life and still shine so brightly?  It was your light that got me through some of the darkest times in my life.

You are such an example to me.  I aspire to be like you.  Sometimes when I'm trying to figure out what to do I ask myself what you would do.  I want to be like you.  You are one of the most Christ-like people I have ever met.

The way your face lights up when you see me.  It's overwhelming.  It floods me with love and value.  And I've watched as you give this gift to others.  Like whoever you are with is the most important person in the world.  Like there is nothing you would rather do than sit and be with this person.  With me.

Do you know your power?  Do you understand your greatness?

And no matter how long we are apart, I am welcomed back with love every time.  Never judged for staying away, for being busy, for not staying in touch.  Just loved.

Do you understand how rare you are?

I love you.  I love you so much it makes my heart hurt.  I love you for what you've done and for who you are.

And I praise God every day for bringing you into my life.  Thank you for being willing.  Thank you for letting Him guide you.  Thank you -- for everything.

Love,
Robin

Why Celebrate?

I am here to admit that I just do not understand celebrating.

The first time I went to therapy, my therapist told me to celebrate the good work I'd done.  I was absolutely clueless.

Since that day, I've pondered the idea of celebrating.  Is it really important?  Am I the only person in the world who just doesn't get it?

I don't really have any answers.

Planning celebrations is tough for me.  I guess in my head a celebration is meant to be a happy time.  A time when there is so much joy that it must come out.  And my moods and health are so variable that I just can't predict that I'll feel that way when the time comes.

No matter how wonderful the event.  No matter how much I love the person/people involved.  Sometimes I am just not in a celebratory mood.  I can't just turn it on and off like others seem to be able to.

But I have found my own kind of celebration.  I don't necessarily celebrate like others do.  On the big holidays.  With a trip or a party.  Those days are usually more quiet celebrations if I have anything to say about it.

I celebrate moments.  If I have the chance to be with a good friend, I rejoice and revel in the moment.  If it has been a really great day, I am elated.  I celebrate little things.

The big things are too pre-programmed for my taste.  Too packaged.  Too mundane.  Too everyone-else-does-this.  They can be fun enough but they don't touch my soul.

A text from a friend to check on me because he knows I've been having a tough time.  Hearing that one of my friends had something wonderful happen in her life.  Seeing my children do well at something and be truly proud of themselves.  These are the moments I celebrate.

I've been known to decide to celebrate out of the blue. 

Let's go get ice cream.  Why?  Because I'm happy today and I adore you guys.

Let's spend an entire day on an Alice in Wonderland marathon.  Why?  Because we are such good friends and I am so happy about it.  I want to do something with you that I couldn't really do with anyone else.

Let's spend the whole day in our pajamas.  Why?  Because it's the first day we have had no commitments.  Because the entire day is ours.

I celebrate the moments.  In unusual ways.  Because that's where I find joy.

Girlfriend Therapy

There are many kinds of therapy.  Physical therapy, chemotherapy, psychotherapy.  Some people believe in the powers of retail therapy.  I'm a big fan of caloric therapy.

Basically, therapy is meant to heal.  Whatever is wrong, we try to find a therapy to fix it.

Now, even within the field of psychotherapy there are many different disciplines and styles.  Each therapist has his or her own way of trying to help people.  I've seen several different therapists professionally and while they each helped, they did so in varying ways.

Therapy can be scary.  The idea of going to see a therapist is intimidating.  I know.  I had to overcome this, too.  And sometimes only a professional therapist can help.  Sometimes you need answers that only they can give you.  Or sometimes they can recommend exercises to help you work through something.  Or maybe you need medication.

But in all my experiences with therapy over these last few years I have learned one very important thing.  The most important element in therapy, for me, is having someone listen to me.  Having someone value me.  Having someone give me a reality check and tell me I'm not crazy for feeling the way I do.

Some therapists are better at this than others.  Some have difficulty remaining silent long enough for me to say what I'm trying to say.  Others think they know what I mean without checking in to see if they've interpreted me correctly.  Then there are those precious few.  The ones who get me.  They understand.  Much of our communication is unspoken but completely understood.

And now that I've worked through most of the major things I've found a less expensive way to get the validation I need.

I call it girlfriend therapy.  Me and one or two friends out at lunch, talking for 2 or 3 hours while we eat.  Listening to each other.  Validating.  Valuing.  Or maybe it's a quicker session and we go get ice cream or a slushie.  We talk in the car on the way there and back, and for longer than we normally would in front of her house when I drop her off.

It's more than just being with another adult.  It's more than just a break from the everyday routine.  It's knowing that I'm with someone safe -- emotionally safe -- who cares about me and truly wants me to heal.

Sometimes a night out or a lunch with a big group of women is wonderfully satisfying.  But nothing can beat that one on one intimacy.  That moment that says, "I put the rest of my life on hold to be with you today because you are important to me.  How can I help you?"

And the funny thing is that it is healing for everyone involved.  Even if I go intending to be the listener, the giver, I still come away feeling so much better.  So much stronger. 

And most importantly I feel valued. 

Just like with therapists, if it's not a good fit keep looking.  If you haven't found the right friend to truly help you feel more like yourself when you're with her, keep trying.  Chances are there are many women out there searching for the same thing.  A relationship of mutual caring.  A confidant.  A listening ear.  Some truly healing girlfriend therapy.

Not only is it much cheaper than traditional therapy, it's also much more rewarding.  And right in your own neighborhood.

Game On, Girlfriend!

There is something truly magical about ladies' game night.

These became a part of my life many years ago, when my kids were still young.  A few friends and I discovered that we shared a common interest in board games.  Our lives were crazy busy.  But somehow, we found a way.

With much planning, scheduling, and sometimes begging we each arranged for a night off duty.  I can't tell you how much that meant at that time.  And it still means a lot.  A night when everyone you are with will be reponsible for herself.  No worries, just play!

Each game night is different.  We play at different homes.  Different people come.  We play different games.  Sometimes we talk more than we play.  But one thing is the same.  Every time.  It feeds my soul.

With no fragile male egos to get in the way, the dynamics of games change.  While we still trash talk (in a very toned down, not at all serious, way), we also rejoice in each others' successes.  We laugh at each other and at ourselves.  We can get fiercely competetive one minute and console each other the next.

And the biggest difference from those game nights with the guys -- we talk.  And talk.  And talk.  About anything and everything.  We talk about potty training and gardening.  We talk about religion and politics.  We talk about parenting and marital struggles.  But more importantly, we listen.  We listen to each other.  We commiserate.  And we love.  We love each other freely, even in the midst of battle.

Cliche' though it may be, there is power in the sisterhood of women.  And I am grateful for my sistas -- thanks for hangin' in the hood with me.

Coffee Talk

I have a deficiency.  A need, if you will.  I need a neighborhood coffee shop.

Okay, not really a coffee shop.  I don't actually drink coffee.  But I need something like it.  I need a place where I can go and just be.  Alone, with a friend, or with a group of friends.  A place to just be.  Neutral territory.  No time limit and no tasks to complete.  A place to think or to visit.  A place to share or to plan.

I imagine that there are a few places like this around.  But I have not found them.  I have tried many to see if they fit.  Some are okay, others a wreck.  Not one of them is just right.

Finding a place to ponder alone is generally a little easier, especially in good weather.  A park.  The mountains.  The library.  The museum.  My car.

A place for visiting with friends is a little more difficult.  Again, good weather opens up more opportunities.  And if you want to share a meal, there are many choices.  But what if you just want to share each other's company?  A small snack or drink and lots of conversation.  How do you do that?

There's something to be said for meeting somewhere.  Out.  Not at each other's houses or the local Hogi Yogi.  Somewhere with atmosphere.  Somewhere relaxing.  Somewhere comfortable.

And then once I find the place, I have to convince others of the value of taking time doing nothing.  Just being together.  Sharing a space.  Experiencing each other's thoughts and feelings.

But I guess I'd better stick to one thing at a time.  On with the hunt!