My Girls

I am not ready to share all that has been going on in my life or why I may be a bit more distant on the blog for the next few weeks, but I will share the story when the time is right.

I am a writer, it’s no secret. I contemplated giving up this outlet. I really did. I took a few days and decided that I really can’t. This is my outlet. This is how I share my story until I have a new platform to speak and share. I share. I am an educator. I am wired to write, and speak, and network and it’s in my DNA. This is it and I love it and how it makes me feel which means that I am not giving it up.

Last week was the hardest, most trying week of my entire life. I cried more than I have in well ever. I’m sorry to be so vague about it, but it’s not the right time to talk about the details.

I could’ve shut down. I could’ve. I was close. I’ll be real honest. I was very very close to a dark place, but I pulled through. It’s by no means over, but let me tell you I couldn’t have done it without my family and my girls.

My girls. The ones who text you and can immediately tell that you need help without you saying a word. They demand/strongly request that you drop everything and pack 700 times the food necessary to feed four adult women for 24 hours and you get in the car and you drive to the boonies for a weekend of junk food and girl time. And for that I am beyond grateful. We spent the majority of our 24 hour road trip hunkered down at a kitchen table with full glasses of wine and we simply just talked. We talked about life and love and loss and the memories that made us the squad that we are today. We laughed. We cried. We shared. We opened our hearts.

These women,

the women who have seen me dance like a fool in a crowded bar of townies.

the women who have consumed more Jameson and Grape Apes than anyone should in a lifetime.

the women who do facemasks at 10pm and who willingly choose to share a full size futon instead of filling up another bed in the house.

the women who choose to put their sweatpants on at 7pm and laugh until they cry about a romantic comedy.

the women who consume 2 pots of coffee and still just sit at that table and chat the morning away.

the women who can spend the day aimlessly perusing antique stores.

the women who sing Dixieland delight at the top of their lungs with not a hint of shame.

These are my ladies. The ladies for whom I am incredibly grateful.

Thank you.

I want you to find your tribe and love them hard. Everyone is struggling whether they want to share about it or not. Love on your people because they need you.