Letting Go With Love
Only to catch a Radical Acceptance boomerang three years later.
October 19, 2019
It took me thirty-seven years to figure out what type of friends I needed in my life, and with that valuable lesson came another one blazing right behind it. I also learned what kind of friends I didn’t want.
I never thought (not in a million years) I’d be spending my Friday night telling the story of how my best childhood friend, Wendy, and I used to be friends. Years ago, Wendy and I spent our Friday nights boozing together. With our bellies bloated with beer and aching from laughter, we’d vent for hours about everything under the sun. We groaned and groveled about motherhood. We celebrated triumphs in our marriages and rolled our eyes at its trials. Week after week, year after year, we met in the middle of a long-standing sisterhood to commiserate and have one more beer.
There is so much I want, no — I need to say. But each time I sit down to squeeze thirty years' worth of memories into ten minutes, I get hung up at those damn emotional flood gates. There’s only one way through that proverbial gate; to begin where it began and take it decade by decade from there.
1989
My brother and her brother were friends. Long story short — it was dinner time, and…
