Years ago, a childhood friend of mine was going through a divorce. I had no idea. We regularly spoke on the phone and were always connected through space and time. She lives a few states to the left of me and it had been some time since we had seen each other face to face. I had a sense that things were not good. She seemed stressed, or flat, or low, or distracted, but life is challenging and I just thought it was one of those “blah” times...
until one winter morning she called me before the sun was up and I heard her choking back the sobs. I waited, for what seemed like hours, for the words to form; first in her mouth, and then for that intense work of saying them aloud..
We talked for a while. And as I got off the phone, I considered next steps and I called her back to ask “do you need a rescue mission? because I’ll come”. This was never a term we used. I don’t even know why those were the words that came out or why she received them so openly without need for clarification. She simply paused, then replied “yes”.
And that was it. I went to work and spoke to my boss and told him I needed a few days off to attend to a family emergency, checked in with my husband and bought a plane ticket.
When I arrived we did what women who support the women they love do. We cried. We sat. I listened. She listened. We ate. She raged. I raged. We laughed. We hugged. We planned. She shared. I witnessed. We walked.
And after a few days, when I could see she was going to be okay. I left.
And many years later, which turns out to be not that long ago. I called her in the middle of a workday. And as I choked back my sobs, she waited patiently for the words to form and for me to push them out. I told her I thought I might need a rescue mission.
And she knew, not because we had ever discussed it. And not because our friendship is transactional and she felt like she owed me. But she knew, like I had, what intense level of vulnerability it took for me to press the big button and ask for support.
And asking was hard. Even with the amount of trust and history and experience and love we had shared, I felt scared. I second guessed myself for weeks before, telling myself that I was fine and I was being weak, or overreacting...doing everything I could think of to minimize my need for support during a particularly difficult time in my life.
But I did ask. And she did come. And we did the things that women who love each other do. We wrote poetry. We walked. We ate. We talked. She listened. I listened. She witnessed. I shared. We reminisced. We dreamed. We laughed until we cried.
These memories have been revisiting me of late, I think because we are all feeling like we could use a major rescue mission right now. And you may not be able to drop everything with all that is going on, either to go or to be gotten to, but I want to encourage you...reach out to the women who support you. Share deeply. Laugh heartily. Dream big. See and be Seen. Uncertainty, and longing to connect, and vulnerability are not weaknesses. (If you don’t believe me just ask Brene). And certainly are not when you are in the company of other women who are cool.