Friday, December 7, 2012

In Good Company: A love letter to all my lady friends

Fear is a shaky hand you hide behind your back, a smile through gritted teeth and a nod of fake confidence you believe will mask it all. I've written before how nobody really knows what they're doing, but how everybody appears to. I've written a lot about my old bed-fellows fear and anxiety but not so much about the other side. The side of bravery that slices your life in two or the side of courage that looks a lot like fear unmasked. Funny that.

I'm surrounded by a group of incredible and brave young ladies on whom I have many a girl crush. This is a love letter to all of you, you know who you are because I've probably told you already but if I haven't this is my confession, my little serenading love song just for you.

Bravery looks a lot like fear, the difference is in the doing it anyway. And everyday I speak to or write to or think about these friends of mine who I adore and admire to the ends of the earth, it makes one side of my mouth go up and gape a little open in disbelief. The awesomeness of them borders on the fictitious.

There's my cousin who has known me since I was a baby, whom I look up to for countless reasons and the most recent of which is that she had the super-grande lady-balls to book a one way ticket out of a comfortable, safe and happy life in order to keep her future self from wondering, like a sad song on repeat, What if... What if... What if... 

There's my sister who is ambitious without being narrow-minded and who is a force of nature to be reckoned with. She is a hurricane of unapologetic demands of herself to be better, to do more, to learn and to know and to discover. She ignored our creased foreheads and pursed lips, quit university and decided instead to do what she wanted to do but didn't know if she could yet. She can and she has and she never looked back. 

There's my best friend who continues to roll with the punches, who is taking chances and allowing her five year plan to be re-written over and over, or to remain an ominous question mark when she used to want a detailed, paragraphed, five point plan. There is so much courage in forfeiting control of your life, to learn to silence the constant hum of What will happen next?

There are my countless lovely lady friends, new kindred spirits who make me realise just how normal and okay it is to be confused, to not know, to surrender to the what the fuck?-ness of it all. They challenge my ideas and my character over red wine or an apple pie cocktail. We plan holidays and hope, without tact or regard, that perhaps none of us will get real jobs just so we can continue living in this glorious unknown where the only certains are each other. We retreat earnestly into the way a cheeky drink and a good friend can take the edge off the sharp, angular questions the world asks of us and of which we refuse, stubbornly, to answer.

There's that spanish saying, which I have no idea if they actually say but I've read somewhere in a book, 'Dime con quien andas y te dire quien eres' or in the English version - 'You are the company you keep'. Without a doubt I am in love with you all, my lovely lady friends (all seediness of that expression intended). I adore your bravery, which you might mistake for weakness or doubt but which really is the secure courage of allowing yourself to be insecure and vulnerable. I admire, I adore, I love you all. That is all.

And now I have to run, because I'm meeting a few of you at a bar in about five minutes for apple pie cocktails.

Besos <3

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