I Hope This Email Doesn't Find You
But if it does...
A friendship I thought would last the seasons, fell with the leaves of fall. To save it would have required me to abandon myself and I have been working really hard on not doing that. So I abandoned the ship instead. Let it all wash ashore. Left it undone and unbuttoned. Voted most likely to be the villain of the story.
Sometimes that’s just how it goes - how it has to go - and that’s okay.
It’s okay to shift into the next version of yourself; enter a new chapter of your one wild and precious life without apology - with new priorities, new limits, and non-negotiables to honor. It’s okay to be busy - completely and wholly occupied with what’s in front of you. It’s okay to take what you need, like a season of solitude.
Or two.
Sometimes it’s the most necessary thing for your survival.
Those that understand, will meet you where you’re at. Those that don’t, won’t.
It’s okay to have boundaries.
I just sent out some holiday snail mail. One of my old friends from college texted me after she received it and said, “I appreciated your boundaries and honesty in your card.” I told her that was one of the best compliments I could ever receive. Another texted me back this winter in response to a text I sent her in the fall. “Thanks for the sweet check-in this October,” she said. “I wasn’t really in a place to answer it.” I thanked her for freeing me with a single sentence.
I’ve been in friendship with both of them for about 10 years now. Those who are meant to continue on with you in the next chapters, will. Those who aren’t, will simply be a part of your story in pages past. The only obligation in friendship is to make sure that you are both held and free by the other. No cherished outcomes.
Sand will always fall from a clenched fist.
There are only two weeks left in this year. Throw caution to the wind. Open hands. Let go of it. Release it. Leave well enough alone. Let it be. Around every corner, you did your best. You’ve done enough. You are enough.
Is it enough for me to tell you that? Or do you need more proof?
What about the time you made a really hard phone call? What about the time you answered the phone in the middle of the night and. showed. up? - jet lagged and without capacity, but that’s the. kind. of. friend. you. are. What about how you finally got to grieve? How you finally got to hug so many people you love? What about how you finally learned how to say no? What about the way you lost everything, let yourself cry about it, and then got. to. work? What about the way you stood up for yourself - advocated for yourself? Showed up on the couch every Thursday to do. the. work?
What about how you started over, built a life from scratch, protected it fiercely, and made it to the other side - over and over again?
There are only two weeks left in this year.
I hope you’re taking it slow. I hope the email doesn’t find you at all. I hope this email doesn’t find you. But if it does, I hope you know it’s okay to go MIA. Leave the texts on “read,” and let it go to voicemail. Get back to them when you’re in a place to answer.
Take. A. Nap.
I hope that if there are messages to send and receive, you opt for the USPS rather than SMS.
Or, better yet, carrier pigeons.
I hope you eat another cookie and become one with your couch - or your bed. Keep the lights in the house low. I hope you crack open the book that’s been on your list and lose yourself in it. And when you’re not reading, I hope you get more than 8 hours of sleep.
You need it.
I hope you rediscover hot water bottles, and years from now, the smell of their rubber won’t just remind you of the ear infections you had when you were a kid - but rather the way you wintered.
The way you kept close to the warmth and did not become cold, even if the year did back in the heat of the summer.
The way you danced in the kitchen with your husband at 7 am on a workday to “Pink Pony Club” as you made breakfast together before the winter sun rose (20/10 - would highly recommend).
The way you cupped your hands around a hot coffee or held the small of your phone’s back, Christmas lights twinkling, lost in conversation with a friend as you combed through the chaos and the beauty of it all.
The way you woke up completely relaxed from the most divine nap to a fire quietly crackling outside on a random, still, and brisk Wednesday evening; the way you sat down, looked around, and realized you’ve built the life of 13-year-old you’s wildest dreams.
If you feel like you’ve lost yourself, you’re right where you left you - head on your pillow, hot water bottle under your aching ear. The child inside who never complicated any of it.
Maybe she’s been singing all along, “Help, I’m still at the restaurant.” Go to her. Go to the other side. The only way is through - the fear, the anxiety, the unknown - the stories in our heads.
They’re just stories after all.
Most of all, when you get there, stay. Abandon the ship if you need to, but never you. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. We’re going to make it.
Look how far we’ve made it.
Yes, it’s the end of an era, but it’s also the beginning of a new one. Endings and beginnings go together like that.
I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to see what’s on the next page.
yes always. all ways.
As always, this is perfection, and a message I needed re: a friendship that didn't go the distance. <3