The Girl with the Purple Hair

We walked into a new sanctuary surrounded by strangers.  The music was familiar, but the church and the people were new to us.  I was more observant than worshipful taking in the faces and feelings around me.  Finding a church body and a place we feel like we belong has certainly come with it's challenges.  As I stood there taking in a new place, I spotted a young woman near the front of the sanctuary.  She had bright purple hair and I could visibly see some of her tattoos as she raised her hands in worship.

I leaned over to Todd and said, "Um, I'm gonna need to know that girl.  She has purple hair AND tattoos.  I'm pretty sure we should be best friends." 

You see, as long as I can remember, I have always, ALWAYS wanted a fun color hair.  Somewhere between the jobs I've held in various offices and being married to a man who isn't too crazy about unconventional hair colors, I've never had the chance to try out the bold colors like bright aqua or hot pink.  Naturally, I'm drawn to other people who so effortlessly pull off an edgy and bold look.  And while it was her hair that drew me in, something in my gut told me I needed this gal in my life.

But instead of walking up to her and introducing myself like a normal person, I spent the next three months worth of Sundays inching my way up to her row in church.  Maybe if I could sit in the row behind her, we could finally say hello during meet-and-greet and it would be then she would realize that we were supposed to be best friends.  It never seemed to work out though and I was losing hope that I would ever find some kind of way of approaching her that didn't sound like: "So, you're hair is awesome and I have tattoos and I've also Facebook stalked you a little bit already.  Do you want to hang out and be my best friend?"

A few weeks later on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, the girl with the purple hair stood at the front of the sanctuary to share a brief testimony of gratitude about what she had been through that year.  I remember her saying that God had isolated her from the rest of her family and friends during a time of sudden loss and immense grief, and that in her isolation she awakened to her need for Jesus in a way she had never known.  Those words spoke to places I had been hurting and angry with God for where I felt He had also isolated me, especially in relationships.  My tears began to flow and I looked at Todd.  "Oh, now she really, really has to be my best friend.  I just love her."

Now that I finally had a reason to approach her with something to say other than a comment about crushing on her hair, I immediately found her after church and our conversation came easily just as I knew it would.  We quickly found each other on Facebook (seeing as I had already Facebook stalked her beforehand) and exchanged numbers and overnight, this beautiful friendship blossomed between myself and a Michigander with amazing hair who unexpectedly found herself in my-neck-of-the-woods Texas.

After our first coffee date that lasted nearly five hours, she sent me this silly meme:

Which was especially perfect because I had been referring to her as someone who needed to be my "best friend" from the moment I saw her.

In all seriousness, this girl, is the dearest to me. While so many of our conversations and banter is various levels of shenanigans and nonsense, her friendship was exactly the one I needed and had been praying for.  She has said the same and we both agree that our friendship was a divinely orchestrated by God.  And He must get a kick out of the two of us together, because how could He not? 

Ya'll.  Making friends is hard isn't it?  I watch my boys walk into a new place and sit next to another boy and they start playing together like they've always played together.  It seems like somewhere between our youth and growing into adults, something goes awry in the friend-making department.  We can probably blame middle school for that, because everything awful happens then anyway.  But, making friends - finding someone you click with and enjoy and want to be around and who understands you - it's not something that comes easily, at least not in my experience.

I've learned a lot about myself and my flaws as a friend over the years. I am quick to write people off if I don't feel an instant connection.  I usually won't invest my time in someone if I know they aren't sticking around long term and sadly, I check out and try to fade away from people that feel exhausting to maintain friendships with because it requires too much of me.  So much of my actions in friendships in my adult life hasn't been kind or loving.  I suppose it's human to find it hard to always be kind and loving in relationship with another person 100% of the time, nevertheless, how I have behaved or treated others in the past isn't the kind of friend or person I desire to be.

In the blossoming of new friendships to those that fade or sometimes sadly dissolve and break all together, I am discovering that there is something to be learned from every friendship.  And so, I keep learning and messing it up along the way.  All relationships require a significant measure of grace to succeed and I know there have been times I have been slow to extend it.  I have let friendships go without telling someone how I really felt - mostly because it feels risky and vulnerable to fight for a relationship that you're not certain the other wants to keep.  I am sad for the places where instead of putting up healthy boundaries, I simply withdrew.  I may have some epic failures in the friendship department, but I hope to grow into a woman full of love, grace and kindness.  Because all of us desperately need those things - especially in relationship.

God is rich with grace and continues to put new friends in our paths to grow and stretch us, to minister and encourage us, and to give us a talking to and speak hard truths.  And when He brings a friend along who loves Star Wars and quotes "The Office" and shares your love for bright-colored hair, and her heart is literally shaped just like your own, then you count yourself especially blessed.

My Big Mama Moment

Big Mama was one of the first blogs I ever found.  She is hilarious and she lives near me and for the last nine years, I've been hoping I would run into her at Target or Alamo Cafe eating queso and we would share some kind of magical moment and talk fashion.  Or about our love for cheese.

Over the weekend, I finally got to meet Big Mama live in person.  Though she's a distinguished author now and is all fancy with her real name and everything.  Melanie Shankle, a.k.a. Big Mama has written three books.  If you haven't ready Green Sparkly Earrings, The Antelope in the Living Room, or Nobody's Cuter Than You, than you are missing out.  They are hilarious, heart-warming and touching reads.  She spoke at my friend's church for a ladies thing.  And not only did I attend a churchy ladies thing, but I set my alarm on a Saturday morning and everything.  There are few people  I would get out of pajamas and miss my morning viewing of the Pioneer Woman for - but Big Mama is totally one of them.

Melanie spoke on friendship and how we as women should engage with one another.  I wasn't expecting to cry but there were tears galore.  I also went with Sarah, the one person in the world who has known  the ins and outs of my life for the last 20 years.  And if anyone knows what it's like to be a friend to me, it's that girl.  So, we got lost in the feels and the memories we have shared over the years and at one point were blubbering over our coffee and a chorus of You are My All in All because sometimes life presents you with these full circle moments and you can't do anything but cry at the glory of them.

My finest moment came when I was first in line to meet her.  I behaved myself and did not bring all THREE books for her to sign, but I had seriously considered it.  Before I knew it, I said something about being star-strck and began blabbering about how long I've read her blog and this one time she left a comment on my own when she held her "Fashion Fiesta" and I nearly peed my pants because I was so excited.  And she said, "Oh, you're so cute!" but I think she really meant to say "Bless your heart," because I mean, really.  I also told her I kept waiting for the day I ran into her at a Target at some point and I'm sure she's now hoping that day never comes because I did not stop talking the whole time I was in front of her.  I'm one of those fans.  Sorry, Melanie.  Amazingly enough, I quieted down long enough for a picture.

I now have pictures with two New York Times Best Selling authors and something about that feels brag worthy.  (Also on my list - Anne Lamott, Jennie Allen, Glennon Melton and Kelle Hampton - a few of my other favorite writers/human beings). However, my mouth starts working long before my brain, causing me to use words like "ass" when talking to Jen Hatmaker about how her book had kicked mine, and then the word "peed" to Melanie.

I'm so eloquent. Bless my heart.

The time I got rejected by Jen Hatmaker

I really have to blame my friend Ariana for all of this.  You see, I was only a semi-Jen Hatmaker fan until Ariana kept telling me all the funny things she would say and I was feeling left out of something because I never knew what she was talking about.  And before I knew it, I was following Jen on Instagram and Facebook and her blog and reading all her books.

Except for 7.  I won't read 7.  If you saw my closet you would understand.  I don't need that kind of conviction in my life.

But, I have read all the things.  And I watched all of her episodes on HGTV when they renovated their farmhouse in Buda.  Like three times.  I may or may not have attempted a drive-by of said house.  But, I mean probably not, because that would be totally stalkerish and come now, I'm a grown up.

But I'm a total Jen Hatmaker-ite.  Hatmaker-ian?  We need to call ourselves a thing, ya'll. 

One of the highlights of my 2014 was getting to hear Jen speak in real live person at Oakwood Baptist in New Braunfels.  At this conference, I laughed and I cried and I was terribly convicted about loving my neighbor and the whole thing was amazing.  And then I totally met her.  She signed by my book.  And we got a group picture and I accidentally touched her butt.  Ariana got to stand right next to her like they were BFF's and I was a little (meant to be read ALOT) jealous about that.  But I got a picture with just the two of us later and it kind of made my year.

 

So, naturally, when she announced that she was putting together a launch team for her new book For the Love, and then asked us to help her with it and endorse it and like put the word out, and even WRITE SOMETHING TO PUT INSIDE THE FOR-REAL BOOK, I was like, um, yes please!  Two of my friends immediately alerted me to this development (Ariana being one of them) and I totally pulled off to the side of the road to submit my application.  Ya'll, I didn't want to miss this small window of opportunity to be a part of the launch team.

And safety first too.

I could be a part of the launch team, and be the launchierest launcher that ever launched anything!

But my mind was spiraling out of control instantly because O-M-G, what if Jen Hatmaker found my blog? I was thinking I would either instantly have a book deal or want to hide under a rock for the rest of my life and never blog again because sometimes I can write like a 5th grader and I would be insanely embarrassed for her to read my life stuff here.  Either way, I was optimistic about being chosen as part of the team - because hello, have we met?

I am totally awesome and very funny and the life of the party type.  And also we share the same name even though I'm a two n-er as Jenn and she's a one n-er.  Also, I thought I would be chosen because I thought we were best friends (a detail I included on my application) but it seems to be that everyone who follows Jen thinks they're best friends with her too?  I don't understand how this can be, but whatevs.  I guess I can share my best friend.

Anyway, as I was thinking about my potential book deal and times that I would soon be spending with Jen over coffee at her digs, the email came.

The sad rejecty one.  There was weeping and gnashing of teeth, and I laid prostrate on my living room floor in despair.  Well, not really.  But ya'll, I was kinda sad.

But her little note was so kind and funny and heartfelt that it was hard to get to upset about it.  Plus, I got a little sneak peek at her new book so nanny-nanny-boo-boo to the rest of you.

I will probably throw a For the Love party when her books comes out and launch the heck out of it and show her what's up ayway because best friends just don't turn their backs on each other. As for Ariana, she owes me for putting me through all of this emotional torment to begin with.  (You know I love you!!)

Jen - I pulled off the side of the road for you.  I've touched your backside.  I sort of know where you live (though maybe I shouldn't include that detail).  We share the same affinity for huge earrings and laughing loudly.  Is this because I won't read 7?  I totally still love you though, and wish you and your book the very bestest.  

Best friends forevs!

Love,
Jenn

"We'll never be too old for this"

There are a few tests of true friendship.

#1 - You can always, always pick up right where you left off.  Whether it's been a week, five months, or nine years, it's as if time never passed or changed you.  You still fit together even if you have grown up.

#2 - You can be yourself.  Even if that means having them in your presence wearing pajamas.  Or seeing your ugly cries.  Or farting.  Yes - I just said that. 

#3 - You can say the real things.  The honest, true, hard things that you don't really want to acknowledge.  But if your friend says them, you stay and listen because you know the other person loves you, they get you. And if they didn't really love you - they'd stay silent. And even though it's hard to have that mirror put up in front of you sometimes, they deliver those truths and messages to you with love, not with judgement. 

#4 - They do things.  They show up at your house when you're nine months pregnant and put your clothes in the wash.  They text you just to ask you how that thing went because they remembered.  They drop what they're doing to come over and cry with you because it was the suckiest day ever.  They help you shop around for random pieces to put together a Halloween costume for your baby.

#5 - You have the BEST time ever when you're with them.

Those things would definitely apply to my sister-in-law/BFF/"soul-seester."  Our time together is few and far-between these days, but when she's in town and we have a few moments together, it's like it always was.

In Target yesterday afternoon, we busted out our cameras to take silly pictures of our findings.  A long-time tradition between she and I ever since we've been friends.

Now, in our thirties, we still do the same things.  After trying on giant styrafoam-wigs I asked her if we were getting too old to do this.  Be silly in public.  Take pictures and create shenanigans in unsuspecting places like Target and Hobby Lobby.

She replied, "We will never be too old for this.  When we're 80, we will so still be doing this." 

And you know what?

I really think that we will.

May 5: Blog Friends

Today's prompt:  Publicy profess your love and devotion for one of your blogger friends.  What makes them great?  Why do you love them?

Basically this post is no fair to any of my other blogger friends.  Like Kristie, Shay and Liz - some of my most favorite blogs and blogger friends. 

Kristie let me do a guest post once and boy, did she stretch my inner writer.  I was so honored to do it and was scared out of my mind at the same time.  Because Kristie is this ultra-amazing writer and in my opinion should be sitting behind a desk and writing all day long because she was literally born with a gift.  I love her story and how she tells it. 

And Shay not only makes me laugh from my gut, but she makes me cry and feel.  She gets me, I get her, and I love when I feel connected to someone just by reading something they've written.  Reading her blog is like reading her heart and I will love that girl for always. 

And Liz - I've watched her writing blossom and change over the years too.  I about fell out of my chair the day she mailed me her first book and asked me to review it.  She is witty and real and lovely and I would give my left arm to meet that girl in real life.

But I have to dedicate this post to one very special blog-friend, who as a bonus, is also a real life friend too.

The one and only - Lori.  Or - Superfantastic - as I've known her for years.

You see, Lori was the very first blog I ever started reading.  Lori's blog was what inspired me to start my very own.  I kind of-sort of knew her from a church that we both attended years ago and I never saw us being friends because, well, she was a democrat and I thought she might eat me for dinner if I told her I voted for Bush (both times). 

But one day, Lori commented on my blog and I had a minor flip-out because she had been reading my blog too and I was utterly embarassed because my writing wasn't worthy for her eyes to even gaze upon.  Apparently, I idolized her and her witty writing just a tad. 

As life would have it, Lori moved back to San Antonio years ago, and after we had gotten semi-comfortable leaving comments on each other's blogs, she contacted me via e-mail and asked me if I would want to meet up for coffee.  I still remember that day because I was very nervous and hoping we would have something to talk about.  And that the subject of politics wouldn't come up because I was sure I wouldn't be able to hold my own in her presence.

To my surprise, coffee was delightful and we had tons to talk about - like the importance of owning cute shoes and how much we both loved cheese.  Actually, getting to know her and hearing her beliefs and convictions over the years, especially when it comes to politics and worldviews has been a gift to me.  I've always appreciated her perspective and she always, always makes me think.  And dare I say, I'm not nearly as "republican" as I once was.  (I don't know what I am anymore to be honest.  But that's another subject for another day and I don't believe Jenni has issued politics as prompt this month - whew!)

The friendship I share with Lori was always an unexpected one.  It turned out that we would bond over things like brownies and tomato basil soup and What Not to Wear marathons.  I've also been her fashion consultant a time or two, because not only do I somehow know how to stage a house, I can put together an outfit too.

To this day, I still idolize her writing and wit just a tad.  But mostly I love her honesty, her convictions, and how she isn't trying to be anyone other than herself.  I was super bummed when I had to miss her awesome beach wedding in December.  Being pregnant and having to save for baby stuff put a damper on that trip which was highly disappointing.  Especially when I found out there was booze AND a cookie bar.

And then girlfriend had to up and get married and move to Japan or something like that with her awesome navy doctor husband.  But our writing and blogs and the fact that she knows I'll make her a grilled sourdough and cheddar cheese sandwich anytime she's in town, will keep us friends for always.....no matter who I vote for. 

Life-long Friends

I was in high school when I first met the Senecal family. The two girls that were my age were quiet, and I - well, I was never quiet.   Needless to say, we didn't hit it off at first. I liked to shop and flirt with boys and wear clunky shoes that made me four inches taller than I already was.  And I was loud.  Heck, I'm still loud.

But my life changed because of my parent's divorce and my mom's drinking.  All of it ended up changing me.  

I'd like to think that one of the blessings that came from that hard time were these friendships - Sarah, Rachel especially.  Their family took me under their wing and loved me like I was one of their own.  It felt good just to be known by them.  In all of my pain and hurt, they were my haven.

My aching seventeen year old self needed their love and care.  A safe place to be, to cry, to talk about how I felt.  Their home, their family, their dining room table where we would play Chicken Feet - they were places I was allowed to laugh and play and talk. They delighted in my company.  Even if I was loud.

One Sunday morning at church, I was there alone.  At that time, my dad would drop me off and I would go to church by myself and my mom was almost completely out of the picture.  That particular morning, our pastor invited each family to go to the communion table and partake of the bread and wine together, rather than have it passed out and taken individually in our seats like usual.  I sat there and watched family after family huddle around the table at the front of the church.  I remember my heart pounding within me not knowing what I would do.  Where was my place?  Should I go up there by myself?  I wish they were here.  That should be my family up there.  I hate this.  I hate them!

As I sit here and recall this memory, I have tears in my eyes.  It's amazing how I can still remember the panic and abandonment I felt in those moments.  I was alone and watching these families....together, not broken....was simply too much.

Sarah sat next to me that day.  I didn't say anything and I didn't need to.  She knew what was going on for me.  She squeezed my hand and whispered, "You can come up with us if you want to.  You're family."

It was a beautiful offer and one I was hoping for.  I wouldn't be left out - they had remembered me.  I felt relieved, yet her words made the hurt I was hurting throb with more intensity.  Sitting there became more than I could bear.  And in dramatic fashion I got up from my seat and literally ran out of the church sanctuary.

I don't remember much after that point.  I think some ladies came to comfort me.  But I do remember that I spent the rest of that Sunday with the Senecal's - my surrogate family at at time where my own was falling apart.

Those were the formative years.  Since then, we've stayed close and developed deep, meaningful, and lasting friendships.  We've been through much of life together.  We've shared in a lot and journeyed along side each other for years.  Many, many pieces of my story are colored with their impact on my heart.  

The relationships I share with the Senecal's, and with Sarah and Rachel especially, are life-long.  We've been tried by time, distance, hurt, circumstance - yet our love for one another still remains.  

Yesterday evening, we had a little "family reunion" of sorts.  Rachel and her family were in town, so we hosted a little gathering at our house.

Our children - the ones we would dream about when we were teenagers - played in the mini-pools outside.

They laughed and screamed and played and created glorious chaos that only children know how to do.  I couldn't help but hear all of the chatter and noise and relish in God's goodness.  How He gifts us with life.  All of it felt surreal and beautiful. 

Us girls attempted to have serious conversation amidst all of the activity.  We had spurts of talking in the midst of the nose-wiping and diaper-changing and the picking up goldfish on the floor.  It was so different than how it used to be - when we would talk for hours and late into the night, uninterrupted.  About our faith and our dreams and where we hoped to be when we were thirty-something.  But it was so the same too.

Though Sarah is the only one close by, anytime the Senecal's are in town, I am still invited to be a part of the "family." Any time spent with them is sweet and memorable.  Last night was just another evening for the memory  books.

Life-long friends are rare.  Friends who feel like family are maybe even more rare.

Me?  I have both.  And I am very, very blessed.

Book Review: My (not so) Storybook Life

I met Liz four years ago at Mabel's House, shortly after starting my own blog. I was drawn in by her unique decorating style and her her uncanny ability for telling witty stories about her every day life adventures. Liz has amazing taste and sense of style - she's even been featured with Better Homes & Garden!

Maybe when you've read someone's blog for years, you feel as if you really know them. And though a "blog-friend" is quite different than a "real-life" friend, there is something unique about that kind of bond. We are connected through writing. The writing is what brings us together really - the need to, the longing to, and the desire to just write what is in our hearts because we feel like we must.

Earlier this year, Liz wrote a book and it officially hit the shelves last week. I've been so excited about it that I actually cried on Monday when it arrived on my doorstep. I don't know Liz in "real-life" but I do know just a taste of what having this book published means to her and her story.

Perhaps I'm biased, (I kind of doubt it though) but seriously - the book is outstanding. I laughed (and quite literally) out loud. Liz identifies with characters in some of our most favorite literary reads too - Juliet, Scarlett O'Hara and Marianne Dashwood - just to name a few. It's quite clever really. And I don't want to give anything away, but there is a wedgie incident that had me rolling with laughter.

You probably don't want to miss out on that. Because if anything, who doesn't love a good wedgie story?

But not only did I laugh, I cried too. It's a touching and true story about a real relationship. Her book tells a beautiful tale of how the beginning and the ending of a friendship forever changed her life and her faith. And Liz made me feel like a normal woman. She offered me a fresh perspective, that frankly, I needed for my own self when it comes to how I feel about measuring up to being this wife-mom-homemaker-woman that I thought I was supposed to be by now. All this to say, the story is not just humorous; it is thought-provoking, heartbreaking and inspiring.

You can order My (not so) Storybook Life by Elizabeth Owen from Amazon. So go there, do it! Buy it! And if you're thinking about what to get your favorite girlfriend for a Christmas gift, this book would be ideal. I'm planning on doing that very thing for a few of my own besties.

The book is great, because Liz is great. She tells her story with honesty, humor and authenticity. I loved it and I think you might too.

*You can read more about Elizabeth Owen, blogger and now published author, at Mabel's House.

Half-Birthday

Seriously ya'll. If my birthday fell in the month of December much less on the actual day or close thereafter, it wouldn't have taken me long to have invented a different birth-day for myself. Maybe it's my personality and kind of being all about needing attention, but I don't know how December birthday people do it? I get a little miffed when spring break plans get in the way of my potential birthday celebrations. I don't think I could handle my birthday falling near Christmas.

I have a friend named Andrea who is such a person. Last December, quite close to Christmas, she casually mentioned to me that her birthday was coming up and it was a couple of days after Christmas. And she never really does much to celebrate because it's such a crazy time of year for people to try to do something birthday related in the middle of the holiday season.

And that was quite true. I was busy last December 27th. So I sort-of jokingly mentioned to her that we should celebrate her birthday in July. Because why not?

Little did she know until this last Saturday, that I was quite serious.
I surprised her with a fun night out to celebrate her birthday.

We went to the bowling alley first.

Where we played some awesome games - and even won tickets! And I was gravely disappointed to learn that the ski-ball game was out of order because I kind of rock at some ski-ball. And by the way, why do we call it ski-ball? .

Anyway. Oh yeah, tickets!
We went bowling - which super fun and made me wonder why I don't do that more often. We also noted that "high-fiving" is totally "cool" behavior when bowling. Though I kind of suck at bowling, I have a lot of fun trying. I did manage to get TWO strikes that night. Holla!

I also noticed that I twirl a lot when I bowl. What's up with that?
Anyway. We had fun celebrating her birthday in July. She was thrilled!
Later our friend Heather met up with us to have dinner.
There were movies and silliness later at my house. It's not a half-birthday without silliness.
I did tell Andrea that night that she should just change her birthday date on Facebook, and then it could be really official. And that she would from now on celebrate her birthday in July instead of December. Because if Facebook says something about you then it must be true. Right?
We had a fun night celebrating our friend's half-birthday! And maybe we'll have to do it again next year!

Her name was Kelly.

I think we met in choir at the end of seventh grade. I remember that she had somehow sat on a Twinkie at lunch and her black shorts were covered in some kind of Twinkie paste that no amount of water could get out. Our choir teacher humiliated her about it and she walked out of the choir room and left class. I don't know if she ever got in trouble for doing that, but I admired her bravery in not putting up with Mrs. Hunsucker's cruelness about the whole thing.

I think after that, we became friends who would talk about how much we hated our choir teacher and how awful it was that she had ever sat on a Twinkie. Because who does that happen to?

We were the best of friends in 8th and 9th grade and some into our 10th grade year as well. We watched movies together. We wrote notes to each other in special spiral notebooks that we would give back and forth to each other. We went to the mall on a regular basis. We talked about our crushes that we had on the boys in school. And she was the friend that was with me when my brother died. We tried to figure out death and God and things that were far deeper than our early teenage minds could even begin to comprehend.

Kelly and I got together several years ago right before I got married and reconnected again. I ran into her mom somewhere and she gave me her number and told me to get in touch with her. It felt just like old times and it was fun to see each other as adults - there was years worth of life to be caught up on. At that time, neither of us could remember why we had fallen out of touch in high school - we decided that somehow we had just drifted away perhaps.

Later, I dug into my journals that I saved from teenagehood and learned why we hadn't stayed friends. Somewhere around the time of my parent's separation I decided I didn't want to be friends with her anymore. I had felt like we had nothing in common and I just quit showing up to lunch with her or talking to her in class. I felt like such a brat. And I wondered why I did such a thing? It felt awful to find out that I was the one who was responsible for our friendship not lasting and I was curious as to why I had forgotten about what happened until I read my 16 year old's notes.

We met up yesterday for lunch - thanks to the wonders of Facebook and bringing old friends together again.

After catching up on another few years of life that we had missed, I told her about what I had read in my journals about sabotaging our friendship. And I apologized for being a brat though she never really thought that about me.

As I've had the chance to think about my actions as my 16 year old self and now that I have learned a great deal about who I am and why I do some of the things I do, I am pretty sure that I set out to sabotage something great. During those teenage years, I felt so miserable and I didn't know how to feel anything but sadness. I'm pretty sure I was clinically depressed during that time, thought it was never diagnosed and I never sought help for it. I remember making everything miserable around me so that sitting in my pain felt more comforting. I remember quitting good things - like competing for All-State Choir, and backing out of fun activities with friends because I wanted to stay home and just feel sorry for myself. Maybe to someone reading about such a thing it might sound stupid or it doesn't make sense. But it makes sense to me now as an adult.

I've spent years trying to kill good and happy and joyful things, along with good relationships, because feeling miserable has the comfort of being familiar and known to me. It's been a very depraved and small way of living. And now I recognize that pattern, and make a conscious effort to live differently. I feel saddened as I think about similar relationships that look like Kelly and me. It's a common thread over the years.

Kelly talked yesterday about wanting to take me wine tasting, especially since I don't like wine and I'm convinced I could never find a wine I liked. I've wanted to like wine, I just think it's bitter and I apparently have a lousy and very unsophisticated palate. She expressed a desire to hang out more and try to rekindle a lost friendship too. Which feels like a precious gift and a taste of redemption for me.

We both married men named Todd. Which I think is a very cute coincidence. We've come a long way from talking about boys and going to the mall. And as we talked about shoes and our favorite TV shows and some of the sillier more simple things in life, I remembered how we had become such good friends when we were just girls. It was a very sweet time and I hope for more of it.

I'm smiling today at the thought of that sweet friendship that has come back around to me again. And I'm smiling at myself as I recognize where new patterns in my life are more normal now than some of my older ways of relating. It feels like victory or maturity. Maybe both. But it feels good and makes me smile.