Friendships are difficult to define, especially if you are a woman. When I think about my life, there have been so many friends fade in and out of my life. There have been people I thought were my friends who turned out to be enemies. There have been people who I thought would just be acquaintances turn out to mean so much. There are people who were important for a single stage of life. There are people who have been there through many more. At twenty-eight, I've come to learn that friendship doesn't always last forever. Then again, sometimes it does. The quote above is one of the truest quotes I've learned. Interestingly enough, it came on a friendship frame from a person I stopped being friends with long ago. In life, friendships can sometimes fade. They can change. But the true friends, the ones who really impact you, do leave a footprint,a mark, an indelible stamp of themselves on you. Below, some lessons I've learned at each stage so far. Early Childhood Friendship
When I think back to some of these first friendships, I smile. My first friend ever was a neighbor boy named Thomas. I can still remember the first day we met. I still have a scar from falling on my bike when we were playing. It was a time marked by simplicity and innocence, of carefree bike rides and outdoor games. It was, in short, a beautiful time in life.
In Kindergarten, I became friends with several girls. Cue female friendship drama. I can still think of some of my close friends from elementary school. I can also picture all of our silly fights, our arguments, and the tears, too. Early friendships seem simple, but they really aren't. A friendship in Kindergarten can easily be tainted by a dropped Pop-tart or a Barbie being named the wrong name. I learned early on that girls can be really mean and dramatic. I learned friendships aren't permanent. I learned sometimes you end up playing alone. But young friendships can also be some of the purest forms of connection. They aren't completely tainted with the fear of social pressures or fitting in. They're usually pretty pure. Looking back , these friendships can set the tone for our relationships later in life. They teach us how to get along, how to compromise, and how to move on sometimes. High School Friendship
The best years, right?
For the most part, yes. These were the years of sleepovers and movies, of mall shopping trips and laughter. These were the years I had the most friends. It's funny how in high school, you think you'll be friends forever. Adults warn you, but you don't listen. Those gleaming best friends necklaces won't ever rust. You'll never lose touch. And then you do. I still talk to some of my friends from high school. Social media has made it easier, for sure. There's only one person I'm really still in contact with, despite some distance. Kristin, my best shopping friend, fellow bookworm, literature lover, cat lover, and everything else in between, still keeps in touch. We still laugh about our favorite memories, from a winking Santa card to the time I almost choked to death on a piece of gum. Even when we faded out of each other's lives for a while, she was always still there. She was one of the footprint makers in my life, and she will always be such an integral part of my fondest memories of the past and my hope for new friendship memories in the future. High school friendships help us transition into adult life. They remain a part of us because they are a part of our fundamental years. Sure, there's a heck of a lot of drama. Some of the girls I thought were my friends turned out to be mortal enemies. I was stabbed in the back, gossiped about, and argued with. But it turned out to be a good thing. Even those friendships in high school that go awry prepare us for the tough, no nonsense world of criticism and falsehoods. College Years
College is tough. Gone are all the friends you grew up with, the ones you saw every day at school. You're starting over, you're starting fresh.
And for the first few days, you're alone. You walk alone. You sometimes sit alone. You (cringe) sometimes eat alone, something that would have been social suicide in high school. It's an adjustment. You learn to be independent. You learn friendships truly do come and go. For me, my college years consisted of one constant friend, though, a girl who is still one of my best friends. Jamie. We met in religion class. I saw her, thought she looked nice. We both had bangs, both were a bit quiet in class. So I choose to sit beside her. It turned out to be the best choice I made. Once we got to talking, we literally never stopped. Like not for a second. Chad laughs when we're together, saying we never stop talking. College is stressful. There's a lot of work, a lot of times you don't think you can make it. Despite popular belief, socializing sometimes takes the bottom rung on your priority list. For me, though, I was lucky to have Jamie by my side to make me laugh when I wanted to quit, to commiserate over crazy classes with, and to dance with clay with the Black Potter. We had so many good memories and still are making more. From boyfriends (now husbands) who were stuck in a heart to Jesus in a tree to Sheetz Mochas to dancing to Grease, we made more memories in four years than I've made with others in decades. College friends come into our lives when we're in transition, when we're trying to grow up. But keeping your college friends close is such a gift because when you are grown up, they remind you of the fun, crazy times. They remind you not to let go of that person you were, the person with a vision, with a dream, with passion. Work Years
Growing up sucks. Adulting sucks. Seriously.
Friendship in your adult years can be tough. Time becomes a big hurdle. Between work life, family life, and laundry, when the heck do you have time for friendship, for jaunts to the mall, for careless dinners out? You don't. You just have to make it. Friendships during the adult years are kind of a culmination of everything you learn earlier. These friendships are marked by time and distance sometimes. Sometimes friendships work better during certain periods of your life than others. Sometimes friendships fade because of convenience or different life stages. We've had friends slip away because of a major fact: they have children and we don't. Children can sometimes change the face of friendship, change the connections you once had. But that's okay. Friendship, like life, is all about changing. Nothing is a constant. Except family. Thus, in adulthood, I think I've come to realize the best friends you will ever have are the one's who sort of have to be there. Your family. My parents, my husband, my extended family--these are the friendships that have stood the test of time. These are the people I go to when I want to laugh or when I need to cry. These are the people I always make time for, I always prioritize. These are the people who have left footprints tattooed on my heart, but never slip away. Some friends stay for a few months or for a few years. Some of these friends are forgotten, their impact slipping away and irrelevant in a new stage of life. Some of them mark us, for better or worse, and change who we are, how we see friendship. Family, though, are the people who mark us with their footprints and stay to see how those footprints change us.
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Sometimes, the soul just needs some silence and sunshine.
I had a hectic morning, running around cleaning the house, trying to get everything in order. My mind was swirling with to do lists and what was coming up this week. But then, I saw the sunshine gleaming in the clouds. I saw the lounge chair on my deck calling my name, saw the Ruta Septys book on my counter begging to be read. So I gave in. I put down the towels that weren't folded, ignored the clutter on the counter. I ambled by the tumbleweed of cat hair on the floor that needed picked up. I went straight to the deck. We live in the borough, so usually the neighborhood is filled with screaming children, cars, and the sounds of life. Not this morning. The only sound accompanying me was the sound of the birds, the silent whisper of the wind. Twenty minutes with just myself, the sunshine, and the silence, and I started to relax. The stress of the week, the constant pang of guilt about things left unfinished...it melted away. There's something about sunshine, about silence, about sitting outside that calms us. Sometimes, we just need to put down the work, leave some things unfinished, and take care of our self. My house may be a little dusty this week. My to do list isn't quite finished. But it's been worth it. I'm looking at the week after my morning of relaxation, and I'm thinking, "I can do this. Bring it on." Sunshine and silence...sometimes these are the things the soul needs. http://www.facebook.com/lindsayanndetwiler We’ve all got those things that make us crazy, right? Some of us probably have a lot, myself included. For today’s writing challenge, the prompt is: three pet peeves. I guess I’ll limit myself to three for the sake of time. 1. Macho MenBeing gruff and rude doesn’t make you admirable. Acting like women are inferior doesn’t make me want to impress you. I cannot stand the “men make the rules” kind of guys. It seems like there are a lot of them out there, huh? 2. The sound of someone eating or drinkingOkay, I know. This might put me in the weird category. But seriously, this makes me nuts. You know how at the movies they have the Coke commercial where it’s the sound of soda pouring and someone drinking it? Cringe. Seriously. I cannot stand hearing Henry drink his water for more than a minute. I cannot stand the way Chad chews his food. There. I said it. Cue the label of crazy, right? 3. Empty boxes in the pantryThis is probably my smallest pet peeve, but it still is one. Chad has this habit of putting boxes in the pantry…empty.
It. Makes. Me. Crazy. Why? I look in and think, “Oh my goodness, delicious cookies. I’ll have one.” I commit to it, decide the calories are worth it, get my taste buds ready for it. I reach in, waiting to feel the amazing cookie in my hand. And I feel… nothing. Empty box. I sigh, frustrated, and decide to reach for the cheese cracker box. Again, nothing. Box after box. It’s all a façade. There are no snacks worth eating. All has been lost. The only thing that makes it worse? If when I head to the living room, Chad is chewing on that last cookie. And taking a big gulp of soda to wash it down. Pet peeves. We all have them. Do yours make you sound like a crazy person? Help me feel better about myself. Tell me some of yours. Childhood is a whirl of confusion, bliss, clarity, and naivety. The memories we have from this time shape us into the people we become. However, our memories rarely strike us with luscious clarity or certainty. Our memories are often haunted by our adult perceptions of reality, tainted by the stories we are told and our family members’ retellings of the events.
I cannot say with certainty what my first memory is. There are blips, pieces of my life that flash around, pieces of joy, of fear, of resonating sadness. So, below, a description of some of my early memories, since I cannot pinpoint exactly one.
The list goes on and on. My childhood was a magical one. I was an only child, but I was never lonely. With my parents, my pets, and my imagination, I was never alone. My mom was a creative mind, always coming up with something for us to do. Most of all, my childhood taught me that books are magical. From an early age, they always put a book in my hand. My childhood was filled with moments, big and small, that shaped me into the person I am today. Looking back, the first memory isn’t what is the most important—it’s the people in my memories. Every memory, every moment of my childhood involves my parents. And every memory, every moment that shaped me is because of their dedication, their values, and their commitment to giving me the best childhood they could. The Modern Woman: Selfless Giving and Unappreciated Living
Maybe it's you.
Maybe it's your mom. Maybe it's your best friend. Maybe it's the woman in front of you in the grocery store. We all know that modern woman who gives until she's worn out, frizzy-haired, and exhausted. I would argue that we are all that woman to some degree. We give to our families, cooking and cleaning after a long day at work. We give to our children, clothes, support, time, and love. We give to our students, answers, encouragement, exciting opportunities. We give to our friends, our cashier at the checkout, our dentist, our doctor, our mailman...a smile, a friendly hello, a conversation when we're just feeling like basking in silence. From the time we're little, we're taught to be caregivers and empathetic thinkers. We're taught to help and give. In the modern generation, though, we've also been taught to succeed and accomplish. Combine the will to achieve with the instinctual desire to give, and what do you get? A lot of tired, exhausted women. What do those tired, exhausted women get in exchange, though? The Desire to Be Appreciated
Don't get me wrong. This isn't a pity post. This isn't a "women are underrated" or "women are undervalued" post.
For many of us, we devote our lives to achieving and giving simultaneously because it's what makes us happy. It's what helps us find our place in this world. There's nothing wrong with that. However, there is a slight problem with this lifestyle--the need for appreciation. We all feel it from time to time. It creeps in when we least expect it. The snotty remark from a child. The eye roll from a friend who thinks your job is easy. The complaint from the husband that the laundry is behind. It's human nature: people only recognize what we haven't done, not what we do. This, however, can be frustrating for the modern woman wearing her Wonder Woman Cape and trying to do it all. It's one thing to put your own needs and desires on hold to be successful and help others. It's another when someone doesn't even notice all of the work you're putting into everyone around you. As humans, we crave appreciation from time to time. We need to know we're recognized, even if it's just a smile or a thank you. We can't all get Oscars or Nobel Peace Prizes after all. Too often in our society, though, appreciation is a hard thing to grasp. We live in a "give me more" society. Appreciation, especially for others, can be hard to muster up. Finding Your Own Appreciation: An Emerson Viewpoint
So what do we do?
Stop being giving? Stop devoting ourselves to our careers, our children, our families, and everyone in between? I mean, it sounds appealing sometimes, but I like Netflix, chocolate, and shoe shopping too much to go out in the woods and hide in a tree house in solitude. The answer, I think, comes from Emerson. We must learn to listen to our own heartstrings. We must learn to appreciate what we need, what makes us happy. We must value ourselves for who we are, good and bad, shortcomings and all. We must learn to look to ourselves for approval, for satisfaction, for happiness. We must learn to give ourselves a pat on the back from time to time, to recognize ourselves, to appreciate our own feats. We also must take time to do what we want to do, to soothe our own souls. We must stop worrying so much about what society deems is a successful role for women. We must sometimes stop worrying what everyone around us needs. We must find our own sense of place, sense of satisfaction. It is only by appreciating and valuing our selves we can find that in others. This week, students wrote tributes to the people who impacted them the most. I was floored by one student's response. He wrote a tribute to himself. He wrote that at the end of it all, good or bad, he was the one who dictated his life path. He was the one who took the most pride in his successes and hurt the most from his failures. He wrote that he has important people in his life who have helped him along the way. At the end of it, though, he must be his own biggest support. I thought it was genius. Many in society would deem this viewpoint selfish. I loved it, though. How many times do we really stop to be our own support system? How many times do we stop to celebrate our successes and our talents? There is a fine line between confidence and cockiness, true. But from time to time, we need to stop and appreciate our own worth, our own contributions to this world. We must find a sense of appreciation in our own soul for ourselves. Otherwise, all of our successes, accomplishments, and devotion to others is pointless. If we are not living from a place that satisfies our own being, then we are not truly living the life we are meant to. We Took A Wrong Turn Today
unglasses perched on my nose and hands firmly planted on the wheel, I stamped on the gas a little bit harder to save us from the perilously close tractor trailer.
"Left lane," my husband shouted." "I am," I shouted. "No, exit left," he corrected. "What?" My brain was more focused on the tractor trailer behind us and the cars zooming beside us to notice the exit he was talking about. And then it was gone in the blink of an eye. Yep. We were going the wrong way.
.I would love to say this was a rare event, that getting lost on the way home from the state poetry competition was a rare, new experience.
It's not, though. One time, we drove two hours in the wrong direction to go to the Pittsburgh zoo because Chad punched in the address for the elephant reserve instead of the actual zoo. We got lost going to DC because I was playing with the gps and accidentally touched the screen...and didn't realize it until an hour later. We've gotten lost dozens of times, sometimes for five minutes, sometimes for an hour. I'd love to say we are supportive in these times of random roads and unfamiliar sights. But we are not. We curse at each other. We blame each other. We bicker, and I swerve in anger. I scream, and he screams. It's not pretty. Getting lost doesn't typically make us stronger or better as a couple. It doesn't challenge us in a positive way or push us to laugh off small situations. Usually, it just ends with us being huffy and ignoring each other for a long time, vowing we'll never take a trip with the other again. Finding the Positives in Wrong TurnsThis time... was not a lot different. I screamed at Chad for waiting until last second to tell me go left and for saying left lane instead of left exit. He screamed at me for...well...really no reason (Hey, it's my story, so I can say what I want! :) ). But then, a silver lining. We somehow ended up in Amish country. I know, you're thinking what's this have to do with anything? It doesn't. It was an odd place to be, an odd sense of timing. But it was also beautiful. In high school, I went through a period of loving Amish literature. Lurlene McDaniels wrote a story about a girl who falls for an Amish boy, and I was crazy about it. I've also read a ton of books by Beverly Lewis. I've always found the Amish interesting. So here we were, on a random Monday, driving through Amish country. We got to see five horse and buggies. We saw an adorable Amish couple walking on the road. Amish children were playing by the road, and there was even a small boy playing with his gray cat. There were sheep and horses, and rolling fields for miles. Was it an astounding, once in a lifetime sight? Nope. It was simple. It was plain. But it was also much cooler than the sight of the highway. I got to see a glimpse of the world I'd read about so many times. I told Chad about memories I had of going to the Belleville market as a child, and we chatted about it. It was just a nice reminder of something that interested me at one point and of simpler lives. It made me think about how in a world surrounded by noise and connections, we often feel lost. Here were people who ride in a horse and buggy, yet they probably have a better sense of community than most of us. Most of all, it reminded me that sometimes a wrong turn can be okay. Sometimes, the sights are a little bit better when you miss your exit. The Lessons of Being Lost
We like to believe we are always in control, one step ahead of life. We plan ahead, look ahead, live ahead.
Sometimes, though, life forces us to take a wrong turn. Sometimes we miss the exit or sometimes we just can't make it over. A lot of times, these "wrong turns" frustrate us. We get mad that we missed the path we planned on taking. So many times in life, though, the wrong turns end up being right ones. Whether it's a career or your love life or even a vacation, sometimes the wrong turns along the way make things more scenic. Sometimes they help us create better memories than if we'd just followed the right path all along. So, I've learned a few things today. 1. Don't let Chad hold the GPS. Ever. 2. I'm a terrible driver. 3. Chad and I may be good at communicating, but not in a car. 4. Horse and buggies drive quite slowly. 5. Farms are pretty to look at, much prettier than the highway. 6. Sometimes taking the long way home isn't such a bad thing. |
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