The hopes and fears of all my years met in the living room that night. A few years back I sat beside my two best friends and their husbands, reunited for the weekend. We watched a Nicholas Sparks movie but that wasn't the reason I wanted to cry.
I had prepared myself for inevitable disconnect. They moved on to be wives and mothers, while I have not. This difference does not divide us but it's there. I knew at some point I would feel sad our lives are not all on the same page. But that wasn't quite it either.
I was surrounded by the people who have known me best and longest but I felt alone, suddenly catapulted back to 16, self-hating and desperate to be accepted and loved by my peers. All I could see was them in their respective couplings and me, the consistent fifth wheel. Was this how it would be for the rest of our lives? Did they really want me there? Surely they only kept me around out of pity. The unexpected nature of those insecurities crept into my present and threw me.
After the movie ended, I quietly put my shoes on, said goodnight, and then fell apart as I walked to my car.
I'm sharing about how I've had to learn to be vulnerable, even with my best friends, at A Deeper Story today. Read the rest over there.