Self-care, caring for others, and knowing when to ask others to take care of you.

It was about 10 PM on a Saturday night and we were sitting in my car on the street in front of her parent’s house. It was dark and cold and the only light eliminating the space was from the sconces on the either side of the garage door. I could feel the air blowing from the vents in my car, warming my face but drying the tears of my struggling friend.

A few days earlier I had received a text message from one of my friends. She said she was going to be in town in visit her parents and wanted to get together. I was the only one of my friends that returned home after college to start my life. While I live with my husband about 30 minutes from where we all grew up, most of our parents were still in the same houses, on the same street, preserving the memories of our childhood. I first met Rachel in fifth grade. She is the definition of a childhood friend. I have known Rachel for fifteen years. So like any friend given the opportunity to spend time with such a deep rooted relationship I openly accepted the invitation.

There is something to say about childhood friends- especially mine. We were an escape for each other. An environment where we didn’t talk about our struggles, we didn’t talk about our fucked up relationships with our family, we didn’t talk about our health. We just escaped into the presence of one another. It was superficial and at time estranged. I always craved for a deeper connection. A deeper connection that I sadly only achieved with one of my childhood friends at this point. I wanted openness, shared struggles, compassion- not only to receive but to wholeheartedly give. I have a craving for deep human connection. While Rachel and I have been rooted in each other’s life’s for fifteen year we had never reached a deeper connection.

That Saturday evening started like most other interactions.

How’s it going? I’m doing good (lie), how have you been? Good, you know just adulting at its finest (another lie).

How’s work? How’s the family? How’s married life? How’s it feel living on your own? Aren’t you so excited for spring? All these questions prompting us to feed each other dishonesty. And then an opportunity opened and I was so exhausted from hiding my emotions and putting on a brave face I cracked and lost at this strange game of chicken.

How’s your mom? (The answer to this question is in dire need of its own entry.)

I paused for a second before answering. I debated with myself really-I could open up and be honest and potentially make Rachel feel uncomfortable with my emotions but potentially given us an opportunity to really break down the façade of a friendship we’ve had for years OR I could continue this superficial conversation and we could go on with our life’s same as always. So after a short pause which tangibly filled the air with tension I was honest for the first time in our friendship. It opened up a flood gate. I talked and talked and talked about my daily life and the things I was struggling with and this battle to become the best version of myself. The best version of myself for myself. I saw her engagement in the conversation. Brief glimpses of relatability masked by lost eyes hidden behind her beautiful smile. I saw a desire to reciprocate.

So how did we end up in my car her face soaked in tear in the soft light of the driveway? After we finished dinner we joined her parents to watch her dad play with his band breaking up our evening and pausing our conversation. But I was determined to make sure she was okay. We left the venue before the show was over and walked quietly to my car. As we approached the car I built up the courage and said “Rachel. I don’t know anything about your life and after fifteen years that makes me sad.” She didn’t seem surprised by the question partially because it was true and I believe partially because she wanted to answer. She climbed into my car and said “I don’t know. What do you want to know?” I simply said “Walk me through a day in the life of Rachel.”

And she started. She walked me through her day, she talked about work, she talked about things she had been doing for herself, she talked about her friends where she lived, and at each topic I dug deeper and deeper. And then she broke down and she shared her struggles and she talked about finding herself, and what she wanted to do with her life, and not having control over other areas touching her life. Then she said one statement that struck me to my core.

She said every year she picks a word to live by. A word to remind yourself of everyday and to embrace. She told me this year her word was “care.” More specifically- self care. And she looked at me with tear soaked eyes and said “But do you know what? I can take care of myself and I can take care of others but what about when I need to be taken care of.” Instantly my face filled with tears because this was something that I struggled with for far too long and I could feel the same emotions I used to have radiating off of her.

I told her that my biggest regret was not giving the people around me the opportunity to take care of me by sacrificing my emotions for the sake of their emotions. There are people surrounding you that are craving for an opportunity to connect with you in a way that will allow them to take care of you.

Self care, caring for others, and knowing when to ask others to take care of you. These are values I try to live by. And it's not easy.