As a young woman in my teens and early twenties, I felt invincible - my precocious mind and impertinent tongue kept my fragile ego safe from others. Deflection was a badge of honor, and I was proud of my acerbic wit - it caught people off guard and made them laugh, all while teetering on the edge of being inappropriate. This was all fun and fine as it was just part of my "charm" (for better or worse). But as my life's issues and problems began to morph from juvenile judgements and thinking way too much about other people and how they lived their lives, I started being more concerned and proactive about the life I wanted to live and who I wanted to be.
An important part if this new growth and self-awareness came from a friendship with my college BFF. She was an fascinating open book: self-aware, vulnerable, honest in both her confidence and her insecurities. We would talk and she would share her feelings unabashedly, I would listen and say "yeah." She would ask if I could commiserate: have I ever felt self conscious like this? Have I ever felt angry like that? "No, not really . . . " I'd confidently say, unable to scratch the surface of my vulnerability.
Soon enough, she stopped sharing and she began responding to my questions in the same way I had answered her. She became a little unavailable and short of depth, providing fewer opportunities for us to connect. It didn't take me too long to realize what had happened and how or why things had changed. I realized that because she shared so much with me, I felt close to her. But because I didn't reciprocate, she didn't feel quite the same for me. I desperately began to share more with her in an attempt to halt her retreat. Slowly but surely, I realized that my self depreciation and honesty was a beacon: it was safe and called to others to approach with less apprehension. My relationships became fortified, I began to shed my prickly exterior - allowing others to poke around. Believe it or not, I still have a tremendous amount of self-work I need to do, but this awareness would not be possible without the realizations I had with this friendship.
This dear friend recently became the mother she was always meant to be. I'm so excited for her family and this next stage of life! I hope, deeply, to be a beacon of commiseration through this amazing and overwhelming time for her. When mommy and baby were discharged from the hospital, I brought her this food-filled care package to welcome the new family of three home - lots of yummy treats and snacks to nosh on while they navigate their first week home.
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Chicken Salad
friendship
The Shared Mexican Meal /
Sometime last year, I had Amy and our friend Puja over for an intimate brunch potluck. I made a crostata and a simple fruit salad, Puja made a delicious quiche with her very own fresh hen eggs, and Amy brought a sinfully moist Coconut Tres Leches Cake. I have been craving that cake since the first bite I took last year. I mentioned my longing of eating it again and she offered to make it for us! I got excited, and maybe a little sweaty, and my mind began to race in delicious ways I could repay her for helping to satisfy my craving. Since we couldn't eat just cake for dinner (well, WE could. But we have children and husbands that need wholesome and nutritive meals blah blah blah . . . ) so I decided to make beef fajitas for both of our families. You can learn a lot about a person and how they build and eat their fajita. My kids ate the soft and fresh tortilla first, then nibbled on the meat and were persuaded to finish their peppers and onions so they could partake in Amy's dessert. Amy's tortillas were a lot like mine: ridiculously full on the verge of collapse. It was another reminder of why we get along so well and how fun it is to cook and eat with her.
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