Making friends as an adult is hard. Whether we've recently had to start over because of a breakup, relocation, or our values change after therapy or recovery, it can be difficult to know how to make meaningful connections. Here is what I did after getting divorced (and what research says about making new friends).
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Today is my 35th birthday. And for the first time in a long time, I can truly say, I’m so glad I was born. I’m so glad to be alive. I’m glad that my attempts to leave didn’t work, and in honor of being 35—still alive—here are 35 lessons I’ve learned in life.
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Each month, I will be sharing a guest piece written by someone from my online community. October’s submission is a poetic piece by guest writer and Wounds to Wisdom alumn, Maritza Padilla. I’m humbled by the writing I received, and I’m proud as hell to share a space with so many courageous individuals who are willing to share their stories. The work of destigmatizing mental health is a community one, and I’m honored to share this space.
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After 18 years of therapy, I feel…fine. Not euphoric, perfect, or “healed” like I used to aspire towards. I feel fine. In a wonderfully simple, stable, and settled kind of way. I’m fine. I’m enough. Life still throws curveballs, I get stressed, I feel insecure and fumble in conversations and struggle to go to sleep. I wonder how I’ll pay bills and freak out about a pimple. I get overly excited about french fries and spill beer…everywhere. I panic at meals sometimes and wonder if I’ll ever really love my body.
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The last time I cried at the airport I was 11 years old.
My family and I were moving halfway across the world—a move that filled me with rage for my parents & a fear of loneliness I’d never felt before.
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Each month, I will be sharing a guest piece written by someone from my online community. September’s submissions included pieces about suicide in honor of Suicide Prevention Month. I’m humbled by the writing I received, and I’m proud as hell to share a space with so many courageous individuals who are willing to share their stories. The work of destigmatizing mental health is a community one, and I’m honored to share this space.
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Lately I have been in deep conversation with my therapist around love. After getting divorced in 2020, I really never thought I’d be open to love again. I was certain that Josh was the only man I’d ever love. Certain that I’d given him all my love, and that I’d have no more to give even if I was open to it again. Certain that he was the best love I’d ever receive, and to hope for something as good as, let alone better, would be a hopeless mission.
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Individuals — whether trained in listening skills or not, have their own adapted skills as listeners. I have broken down my observations of these skills over my 31 years of life (no research guys, just observation and experience, so don’t freak out, it’s an idea not a scientific theory) into the “Four Listening Types.”
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Yesterday, before heading out for my afternoon plans, my husband said to me, “Rachel, I have to tell you something.” Fuck. What did I do. I could tell he was nervous — he had that look on his face that said I am so sorry I know this is going to make you upset, but I’m trying so hard to be really nice and sweet while I say it. I nodded and gave him my I’m ready for this, I’m a strong, powerful, confident woman, and braced myself for criticism with my super-coping cape.
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