There is no greater gift you can give yourself than time with your girlfriends.
To be in the presence of humans who innately understand your struggles as a female, a mother, and a spouse is a feeling every single woman deserves. To hear, the words “I totally get it” and know such deep empathy is authentically true, borders on divinity and forges a powerful connection. To be in the presence of humans who build you up, cheer you on, and joyfully celebrate your triumphs fills the soul with champagne bubbles and glittery sparkles like nothing else can. To be in the presence of humans who will step up in a pinch because they know how much you juggle, brings a sense of security and gratitude which forms a foundation so solid, we become empowered to carry the weight of our lives. Knowing there are people who can drop off meals, pick your kid up from school, and carpool helps us sleep better at night. Every woman needs a circle of badass girlfriends who have her back, pick her off the floor, lovingly mock her idiosyncrasies, hold her secrets, and love the crap out of her. Yet, we often fail to devote sacred time and energy to these beautifully fulfilling relationships. Why? Because life gets in the way. We are so busy that coffee dates are squeezed in between school drop off and grocery pick up. We schedule wine nights six weeks from Tuesday, three years from now. I’ve decided that this is no longer okay with me. My girlfriends are the bearers of gifts my husband simply cannot offer. I need them. Miguel doesn’t laugh at the same memes as I do because his life experience is vastly different than mine. He loves to dance with me romantically in the kitchen, but he won’t do the robot, the Running Man, or twerk to 90s hip hop. I guarantee the man won’t spend an hour choreographing a synchronized swimming routine in the pool simply because that tickles my sense of silliness and fun. My girlfriends will. When I tell Miguel that I ran 5km, cleaned the bathroom, baked spinach muffins, and re-painted the banisters all before lunch time, he thanks me for my efforts (Mostly because he isn’t a stupid man. He knows gratitude is the expected response.) but doesn’t share the deep gratification of being so productive. My girlfriends, however, will display the appropriate amount of awe and admiration. “Oh my God. You are a fucking rock star!” Don’t get me wrong. My husband is wonderful, and I adore him, but he understands me on a different plain than my girlfriends do. Obviously. One of the most damaging mistakes in a marriage is expecting your spouse to be your everything. Miguel is my rock, my partner in life, my best friend, my lover, and hopefully my future. However, we have diverse perspectives, opinions, and experiences which do not always align. We have very different senses of humor, hobbies, and interests. We thrive in spending time apart. I don’t need Miguel to fulfill these parts of my life because I have chosen to nurture close relationships with my girlfriends. They are key ingredients to making my life feel whole. Recently, Miguel asked if I would remarry if he were to die before me. After thinking for a moment, I offered a response which surprised both him and me. While I would like to date casually, and maybe even experience meaningful connection with another man, I don’t see myself marrying again. Instead, I will buy a cozy house with a large deck and a lush garden and open my home to my girlfriends. How easy would it be to live with people who communicate like me, think like me, and know how to sweep the fucking floor without being asked? I’ll ride out the rest of my life enjoying a gigantic slumber party with brilliant women who make me giggle. The Golden Girls knew where it was at! “Won’t you miss having someone to sleep beside at night?” he wondered. “I’ll buy a dog.” The truth is, if I really want this dream to become my reality, I need to prioritize my female relationships and nurture them lovingly. I need to make time for them, organize gatherings and adventures, show up in times of adversity, and support their journeys through life. They will, after all, be the ones changing my adult diaper in years to come.
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Not long ago, my husband asked why I’ve always been unafraid to make enormous changes in my life.
He went on to explain that other people seem to contemplate change, imagine a different reality, plan and plot but never take action. Their desire for consistency, comfort, and certainty trumps any wondering about the unknown. Despite what I’d like you to think, bravery is not what drives me towards change. The motivating force behind my ability to step into uncertainty is depression. My mental health motto used to be, “Fuck depression. It sucks.” As I grow wiser (I’ve stopped using the phrase “grow older”.), I am slowly befriending my mental health and am beginning to embrace the ways depression serves me. When I reflect on seasons in my life which have been highly transitionary, each one of them has been preceded by depression. It seems that my brain is incapable of ignoring even the tiniest seedling that something in my life is in misalignment. The longer I push aside an inkling, not wanting to pay attention, the more it takes root, grows larger, and eventually wraps its tendrils around every thought. As I sink deeper into melancholy, I begin to realize that unless I address the issue, the vines will continue to squeeze until I suffocate. Take action or be pulled into the dark depths of the soil. For me, there are no other options. Do I wish my brain worked another way? Often. But in retrospect, I can see that my depression serves as a pause. In the context of my busy life—full of obligations and distraction—my mental health slows me down so I can evaluate the situation. It is only from this place that I feel inclined to make the massive, necessary shifts to improve and evolve my life. As author and psychologist Richard Schwartz Ph.D. teaches, there are no bad parts of us. Every trait we have developed has served a purpose—to protect, to cope, to motivate. In my forties, I am beginning to believe this to be true. We need to acknowledge and honor even the most inconvenient aspects of ourselves. And, I can honestly say that while every massive change I have undertaken has been terrifying (and the preceding depression, no fun at all), it has also paid off one way or another. Have I known that in the moment? Hell no! Any sane human will (and should) question their own drastic choices. Was this epically stupid or outrageously brave? TomAto, tomato. Only time will tell. After talking with my husband, I took a moment to look back at my history of decision-making. I can confidently say that even when outcome of my choices were harder than anticipated, I have learned a lot. You need to look back to keep moving forward. Many of us panic in the gap between where we’ve been and where we’d like to be. One strategy which reminds us to dig deep and keep moving forward is to pause and look back on how far we’ve come. If we only look forward, we will only be reminded that we aren’t there yet. And, the target keeps moving as we achieve and re-adjust our goals. Whenever I am in a moment of unsurmountable doubt, I make a list of all the audacious choices, small wins, and life-changing wisdom I’ve acquired through striving for change. Asking “What have I gained?” reminds me that progress, no matter how small, is still forward movement. You cannot change by remaining the same. If I truly desire to alter my life and create more balance, adventure, and joy I have to let go of anything which feels stale (but safe). Drastic difference requires drastic action. Become a barnacle upon someone who’s already done the hard thing. You don’t know what you don’t know. When embarking upon a new chapter, the best thing to do is find someone who has achieved what you desire, or who has survived the giant obstacle and come out thriving. Educate yourself, find a mentor, and emulate those who’ve already found success. Regardless of the outcome—lifechanging win or dumpster fire disaster—I will always be proud that I tried, that I attempted to claim a lifestyle I wanted live rather than be trapped in one that wasn't fulfilling. Even when I fail, I become a better, smarter, wiser human. No regrets. Thank you, Depression. The older I get, the more cognizant I am of the rarity of beautiful, magical moments. You know the ones—a glistening bubble of perfection which hovers in the air for just a moment before it pops. They are fleeting, but you know they existed long after they dissipate.
I recently went on vacation with my husband, children, and parents. In the months of planning leading up to this adventure, my husband and I worried about how to balance the realism of our budget with the loftiness of our vision. With one child graduating in mere months and age creeping up on my parents, I knew this window in time might be our only opportunity in the impending future. We decided to just go for it—plan the vacation of our dreams. If it took six months to pay off our debt, the investment in creating a core memory for our family would be worth every penny spent. We weren’t wrong. The end of each day brought a fulfilling exhaustion resulting from hours of exploration and fun. While our days were filled with awe and joy, each one held a specific moment which shined brighter than all the rest. Three teenage boys silent around a dinner table, except for groans of gratitude as the spice and salt of a taco hit their tongues. The eruption of laughter, so deep from the belly that it halted our ability to walk. The sight of my mother unabashedly diving into the crashing waves with her grandsons. Bubbles of perfection. I recognize that vacations aren’t attainable for all. Magical moments are, however. They float across our awareness in everyday life. Often, we are too busy to notice their momentary presence. The sound of your children singing in the back seat of the car. The sight of your spouse immersed in a culinary experience—humming and swaying to the background music as they sprinkle the exact amount of spice over a simmering pan. A dragonfly gently hovering over a blooming flower. Sitting on a patio, sun warming your face, as your girlfriends double over in laughter. Notice these bubbles before they pop. Sear them into your brain. Life gives us little gifts consistently and often. Even though the bubbles are so delicate that they break as quickly as they are formed, we can hold them forever in our memories. We can come back to them again and again, especially on difficult days. When my children no longer live in my home, when my parents are gone, I will have these moments crystalized in my mind forever. And then, I will continue to look for more—with my friends, my spouse, and even on my own. |
AuthorKel Cleeve. Archives
April 2024
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