I cannot imagine my life without the power of female friendship. Earlier this year, I had a hotel room for a work event in downtown Indy, so I asked a friend if she wanted to have a sleepover. I jokingly asked my husband who he would invite for a guys’ sleepover, and of course, he said, “I wouldn’t.” I honestly felt sad for him. I told him I hated that he would never get to experience the awesomeness that is female friendship. I awoke on New Year’s Day to 36 unread texts in one of my friend text groups, and my husband commented, “It’s like you guys are always in on an ongoing conversation.” That’s exactly what it’s like, and I am here for it. My friends and I have often discussed how people used to do life in a community simply by design. Everyone had a literal village. Women raised their children together, cooked meals together, and walked together daily. In modern life, we have to find and build our village. It’s built through shared laughter, tears, and, most of all, authentically showing up as ourselves and for one another.
I recently told my daughter, who sometimes struggles to navigate the tricky world of middle school friendships, that it gets much better and easier as you age. Of course, there’s always risk when we put ourselves out there and open ourselves up to another human, but there’s also so much reward. In my twenties and early thirties, I had solid friendships, but I often felt like I was either holding back part of myself or worried that I was oversharing (I’m definitely an oversharer). I was still trying to determine where I really fit in and trying to mold parts of myself into more of who or what I thought I should be. The older I’ve gotten, though, the less I worry about that, and I feel free to show up as my real, full self. It’s so beautiful and truly healing to feel seen, known, and valued just as I am. My girlfriends are my greatest cheerleaders in life (along with my husband). They believe in me when I don’t believe in myself and vice versa. We encourage each other to take big leaps when it feels scary—start a business, join a dating app, have a scary conversation, and do the hard thing.
Some of my closest friendships have endured for over 20 years, and some are newer after moving to Indy 2 ½ years ago. As an only child, I always wanted a sister, and female friendship has given me the gift of sisterhood. We have laughed, cried, celebrated, and grieved together. The daily texts, phone calls, and messages have provided me with a village I so desperately needed. We have walked through so much together—marriages, divorces, births, adoptions, losses, job changes, moves, health issues, parenting challenges, and more. It’s shared interests, values, and opposing ones, where we can disagree and still be seen, heard, and respected. At times, we’re like teenagers again, talking about first dates and first kisses (along with thousandth dates and kisses), texting about the latest celebrity gossip, and swooning together as we watch the movie version of our favorite romance book. It’s being able to call them and say, “I know I’m being a little unhinged, but I just need to vent.” All the little, seemingly trivial things, along with the deeper, heavier things we share, make it all so meaningful. It’s the girls’ trips, long conversations, coffee dates, getting screen recordings asking if they should swipe left or right, asking for advice about the hardest parenting situations we’ve ever faced, dealing with aging parents, facing our own aging and changing bodies (hello, perimenopause!), venting about work, and saying “I love you” as we hang up the phone. All of it matters because it’s our connection to one another that matters and binds us together in this wild experience that is being a human.
These friendships are so validating, encouraging, and challenging. They meet me right where I am and, at the same time, push me to be the best version of myself. I feel safe to share my deepest, darkest thoughts and fears, and I know I’ll be met with kindness, truth, and compassion, never judgment. As my daughter approaches her 13th birthday this month, I hope and pray she develops these kinds of friendships over the coming years. I’ve told her one of the biggest green flags I look for in a safe person is that they don’t talk badly about their other friends or reveal things that others have confided in them. The familiar adage is true: if they talk about others to you, they will likely talk about you to others. The women who make up my village are champions of other women; they build up, not tear down. They hold space for me, and I trust the things I share will be safe with them. And for all of it, I am so grateful.
So, friends, please don’t ever apologize for oversharing (there’s no such thing as TMI in my book), for needing to talk about or process the same thing over and over again, or for taking up my time. It’s my joy and honor to walk through life with you and have you by my side. I love you, and thank you for being my village!
