whenever i share my story (the guts of my life) with a friend (new or old), i find that the gift of being vulnerable gives a sort of permission to the friendship, a deepening. i’m often struck by how similar our stories can be. how my story is often theirs, too. it’s as if the universe brings us the very people we need in our lives to grow the exact community we deserve – to heal the small parts of ourselves that need healing, and to celebrate the quirks of ourselves that deserve laughter and sillyness – all in the company of women who get you.
i wonder how we find one another. how we attract one another. how difficult it can be, yet how easy and perfect it can be, too. there’s so much comfort in the ease, in the understanding glances. in the stories. in the similar ways of how we filter our life’s experience. in our shared resilience. in how we see.