A Love Letter To The People Who Keep Me.

Hey, you.

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I should be the kind of person who can do everything alone.
You know the type. They disappear for weeks, carry everything themselves, and somehow never seem to need help. 

Somewhere along the way, I bought into the idea that independence is the final form, and that needing people is something you eventually outgrow. I really wanted to be that person, mostly because I thought I was supposed to be.

The funny thing is, if you met me for the first time, you’d probably think I am. I’m socially awkward enough that I spend an embarrassing amount of time replaying conversations in my head, I overthink texts, I sometimes wonder if I’ve spoken too much or too little, and I can be quiet in rooms full of people.

I mistook all of these things for being someone who preferred solitude. Turns out, they’re two completely different things.

Because one thing I’ve learned about myself, over and over again, is this: I flourish in community.
I flourish when my life is intertwined with people I love and people who love me back. I flourish when someone  calls to ask if I’m okay. When I get a “Have you gotten home?" text. When someone remembers something I mentioned three weeks ago.

That’s when I’m at my best.

We’re taught to admire self-sufficiency and aspire to being islands. To never inconvenience anyone and keep our struggles neat and private until we’ve figured them out ourselves. But I have never been an island, and I don’t think I was ever meant to be.

You don’t get to choose the family you’re born into. I didn’t. None of us did. But if I’ve done one thing well in this life, it’s that I’ve been lucky enough to build a family for myself.

Not overnight. Person by person. Phone call by phone call. From random after-work hangouts to birthday dinners. A hundred tiny acts of showing up that eventually became something sturdy enough to call home.

That family is my friends.

I have friends who have driven me to the hospital in the middle of the night without asking questions first. Friends I haven't seen in years but we talk every single day. Friends who’ve opened their homes to me without making me feel like a guest. Friends who have watched me get my heart broken and patiently helped me put myself back together without ever saying, “I told you so.” 

Friends who have watched me cry until my face hurt. Friends who have listened to me talk about the same thing a thousand times till I got over it. Friends who have watched me laugh until I had tears in my eyes. Friends who have celebrated graduations, new jobs, months when money was flowing, and months when it absolutely was not. Friends who have seen every version of me I’ve ever been. Friends who would never leave me stranded. Friends who know where I am because we casually share our locations. Friends whose homes feel like extensions of mine.

Friends I can tell about the dreams that feel too big to say out loud, and the fears that make absolutely no sense. The failures, joy, pain, shame. Everything under the sun.

I have these friends because I am this friend too.

I will show up and clear my schedule if someone I love needs me. I will split the bill, make the extra plate of food, and stay on the phone until someone gets home safely. I don’t do this because I think I’m extraordinary. I do it because that’s simply what love looks like to me.

I know not everyone has this, and I don’t take it for granted for a second. If you’re still looking for your people, I hope you find them. I hope you find the people who clap the loudest when you win and sit beside you when you don’t.The people who know when to give advice and when to simply buy you ice cream.

Maybe home isn’t even the place you were born, but the people who know every version of you and decide they’d like to keep you anyway. The people you choose who choose you back over and over again. And if you’re lucky enough to have even one person who looks at you and sees a home, tell them today. The world is far too cold, and life is far too brief.

None of us were ever meant to walk through the dark alone.

Toodles. 💕