Soul Mates

January ended with a sadness I didn’t see coming.  One of my longest, best friends lost her husband suddenly and two weeks later it’s hard to get back into the groove of work and creating.  I had a calendar for February ready to go and everything I had in mind felt wrong.  It was trite or it lacked the fire I wanted to bring.  It was something I just couldn’t finish… or even start.  

So, instead of writing, I turned to reality TV. 

Here is the thing… When it comes to TV I can tell you nothing about This Is Us and I have never seen an episode of Game of Thrones… But, if you are curious to know what the Housewives are up to- I am your girl.

Teen Mom, reruns of Laguna Beach and The Hills, Kardashians, Dance Moms, Project Runway, American’s Next Top Model, Vanderpump Rules and every city there are Housewives fill our DVR.  

And, listen- I come in fully knowing it’s not going to be Emmy worthy entertainment with whitty banter and artfully produced sets.  (… Although, did you see TomTom on VP Rules?!)

I do appreciate those things… but, after 9:00 PM on a weeknight?  Trashy TV is what my self care sometimes looks like.  

It’s justified, in my mind, because it’s an escape.  I don’t have to think too hard or keep up with a season because the story line is always easy to follow.  I can turn it on and turn it off without too much brain power required… and it won’t give me nightmares or make me cry.  All good things for the Feeler that I am.

This week, for whatever reason… maybe because of the all platitudes running though my mind (“Life is short!”) or even being a Feeler, more heightened by the current events, I started to ask questions of my- should be- escape.  

When it all boils down, all these shows are are just people- women in particular- yelling at each other.  

Tearing down businesses, husbands or husbands businesses.  Judging parenting, outfits, homes and glasses of wine consumed.  Back stabbing and gossiping.  Teaming up to exclude someone, fighting the formation of a new friendship in the name of protecting someone and leaving people out.

For the record, this wasn’t a big “a-ha!” moment.  I knew these things existed in reality TV years ago.  It’s been an underlying current in all the media I have consumed since I was a girl.  (Hello?  Mean Girls came out when I was 16.)  

But, it was the intentionally being mean for the sake of hurting someone else that really got me this week.

Through the behind the back claims that “her husband is leaving for a 22 year old” to the threats about custody to purposefully uninviting someone to an event, it always hit a nerve.  Show after show, if someone wanted to go for the jugular, just attack their character, gossip about their personal life or make the other person feel ostracized.  Or, when all else fails, make something up just to see if it stirs the pot.

Why do we do this?

I know why.  I get it.  I have been there.  I have been uninvited, mocked, and attacked with words to the point of believing they were true.  But, likewise, I know I have made someone else feel poorly, alone or less than over the years be it intentionally or not.  In this, I couldn’t help but look back on times I have been mean… on purpose.

Fortunately it wasn’t often; but, I am no saint.  I was a girl who was trying to fit in middle school and a cocky 19 year old.  Still to this day, I am judge-y and I know it.  I also know I can come off as preachy. (See Also: I am preachy)  I don’t love these things about myself and I am working on it.  

Motherhood has helped.  

(Oh, while we are here, let’s have a moment for that sweet girl and all the claims she made prior to 2016.  Bless. Her. Precious-little-bitty-baby. Heart.)  

But, every time I am mean- even at my most ego driven and/or, then, vanilla vodka induced mean girl- I instantly felt yucky about it.  From elementary school to 31, the feeling of being the victim or the perpetrator of cruelty, for me, wasn’t too different.

Sure, when dishing it out, there was sometimes a temporary high.  Maybe it’s my hereditary Catholic Guilt at play- or the fact that I am kind of a weenie, but being mean always left me a little nauseous.  Fearful of retaliation.  Of being exposed.

So, why?  Why do we do this?  Why, as women, do we prey on other women?  Is it just thriving on the thrill of drama?  Is it fear that we might actually have to be honest with our peers (and ourselves), so we would rather send people looking in another direction?

News flash: Life has enough drama.  It’s a constant ride of ups and downs even without us intervening.  

Because of this, we need other people.

More specifically, as a woman, we need other women.  

If you are a seasoned reader, you know I love inclusion.  I love men and I believe that women need great men.  I absolutely love my husband and, to all the great guys that love my friends, thank you. But, in this week’s reflections I reminded of advice my mom gave me at about 13 years old.  

Then, dating was becoming more “real.” (You know… Not just saying you were going out, writing their name in a heart on your hand and never speaking again until you “broke up.”)

Dates were kind of becoming a thing.

So was making out.

Couples were becoming joined at the hip.  

And, my mom said in passing, “Don’t forget.  Girlfriends are as important as boyfriends.”

It is still true at 31.  

(And, I bet if I asked my mom, she would say it is true at her age too.)

Yes. Like the cliche says, “we need lift each other up, not tear each other down.”  But, the reality of that is that some days that may look like just holding each other up.  

Because of this we need to come together. We need to create community where you are not left out.

A safe place where you can come as you are.  Where you are forgiven.  

Where there is power in not pointing fingers, but instead found in being vulnerable about the ugly, scary, real things.  It’s not gossiping this trust away, pretending they are not the same demons we we face every day; but, rather, saying “Hey, guess what? Me too!”  

Look at your friends and maybe welcome a few more in.  Make someone feel invited and seen.  Because more support is better. More laughter is better.  More love is better.

This week is Valentine’s Day.  The poor day gets a lot of flack; but, it’s one of my favorites.  I love the warm pinks and reds in the dreary month and I get a kick out of making it fun for the kids… and I love love.  

Like I said, Romance love is so great.  But, so is friendship love.  

This week, think about this love.  

The girls I am walking through this new reality with are girls that have been by my side for years.  Literally over half my life.  A couple of them were there well over a decade before I am met Adam.  That’s a lot of braces, sleepovers, passed notes, deciphering AIM conversations with crushes, frantic “I think we are breaking up” calls, whispers that we will never live up to our parents expectations, fraternity parties, tears about challenges at work, sadness as “they think my mom is sick- again” was shared over wine, bridesmaid dresses, showers, and advice about newborn sleep.

We were young and- by the grace of God- we rode out the turbulence of adolescence and into adulthood and every year that passed, every milestone, there was a silent agreement to continue to do life together.  

This is the same commitment I made to my husband, but that day was marked by a ceremony, big dress and cake.  The commitment to these friends and many others had less pomp and circumstance, but it doesn’t change the care and love there.  These women are my soul mates too.  

This Valentines Day, tell your friends you love them too.    

If you are not there with friends, it’s okay.  It’s not too late.  Reconnect with someone you hurt- intentionally or not.  Use the holiday to change the narrative if your group has a tendency to go the route of Reality TV.  Tell them your faults and why you want to change.  

A reason?  Life is short.