Every girl desires a best-friend, a friend to laugh, cry, and celebrate with. You know the friend that will be brutally honest about how bad a pair of pants looks on you. Yes, that kind of friend. Growing up I cannot say I had a best-friend. I have had a few good friends, but for one reason or another, the friendship was short-lived and came to an end.
On the other hand, Tom, my husband, has told me countless stories about how tight the Green Tea neighborhood was and continues to be where he grew up. The guys he went to grade school, junior high, and high school with all stay in touch. Their children are now going up together and they still celebrate birthdays and holidays together some 40-years later.
He even has a friend known as “Kindergarten Brad”. That is when they met and now in their mid-40’s are still the best of friends talking and texting weekly. At first, I thought this was strange or even weird, like the Stepford Wives movie weird. But, truth be told, I was jealous because I could not relate to having life-long friendships like he did.
It was not until my 30’s that I started to experience true friendship with other women. For many years, I was afraid to let anyone get to know me because they would ultimately discover how dysfunctional my life had been. How cracked and flawed I was. I began to understand that the protective wall I built around myself was not really protecting me at all. It was preventing me from having authentic relationships. On my journey of recovery my hurts began to heal and I began replacing my bad habits with good ones. As a result, I have been able to establish and nurture some beautiful friendships.