“I’d trust her with my life.”
The truth is, I’m more likely to ask a stranger to rescue me than a friend. I mean, my BFFs would certainly climb a cliff or drive a rescue truck or hide me in their basement to save my life. But they’d probably be better off leaving it to an expert or someone with a basement.
What I ask of friends is tinier and longer and infinitely more difficult.
- I ask them to support me when they think I’ve made a poor decision for the four hundredth time.
- I ask them to understand when I am snippy or exhausted or whiny.
- I ask them to love me even though our interests have diverged.
- I ask them to smile and nod as I tell them how extraordinary, skilled, empathetic, exceptional my children are.
- I ask them to share their feelings and vulnerabilities with me even though sharing feelings is risky and sometimes sucks.
- I ask them to sympathise with my losses when they are happy.
- I ask them to celebrate my achievements when they are struggling.
Obviously I’d do the same for them. But some days it seems easier to run into a burning building