How My Friendships Have Impacted My Mental Health
One of my core beliefs is that connection is healing. I believe supportive relationships are a vital part of any recovery journey, and as someone who lives with mental health challenges, good friends are like a cheat code in the game of life. Although I have a range of coping skills in my mental health toolkit, inevitably heavy stuff happens. When it’s clear that I won’t be able to bubble-bath or affirmation my way out of it, I know I have people I can turn to.
February is International Friendship Month, and I am fortunate enough to celebrate my day-one girls, the two brilliant, hilarious, beautiful souls who have always been there for me. From my wild teenage years to my tumultuous twenties and now into middle age, these two have been a constant in my otherwise pretty unpredictable life.
I got into trouble constantly in high school. I was inconsistent with my grades and attendance and antagonistic to both the teachers and other students, while my friends were quite the opposite. They rarely, if ever, got a bad grade or more than a stern talking to. We might have seemed like an odd group of three very different personalities, but we made each other belly laugh for hours (still do) and were fiercely loyal to each other (still are.)
Some of my dearest memories are from going to their houses after school. Their kitchens were always stocked with snacks, and I never had to worry about things like whether the electricity or landline phone would be working - essential for our favorite pastime, making prank phone calls.
It always felt warm and inviting and so different from wherever I was staying. And both of them had amazing parents who were always very sweet and welcoming to me. My first vacation and first time on a plane was when I had the honor of tagging along on one friend’s family excursion, to Disneyworld no less!
I ended up graduating from high school. I’m pretty sure that never would have happened if I didn’t have them, and I’m 100% certain that I never would have taken an AP Literature course senior year or applied to college.
After high school, they did go to college, but I set out on a different path. I tried out different drugs, different cities, different men. We all stayed in touch, but it wasn’t until I decided the fast life had run its course in my life and moved back to our hometown that I was able to prioritize our relationship back into best friend status. I have to give them credit again for giving me the unconditional support I needed at that time to start over and try to do life differently.
In our thirties, we have seen each other through navigating marriage, careers, and changing family dynamics. When the pandemic put a stop to our regular chat sesh dates, we started a virtual book club for just the three of us as a way to connect.
It was vital to breathing the life back into my extroverted spirit that was slowly suffocating with each passing day of 2020. It also reignited my love of reading and writing, helping me reclaim my identity after having kids. Finally, one particular book we read provided me with the perspective I needed to confront my eating disorder and ultimately start my recovery journey. It’s really like a magic book club.
When my dad passed away, I called them and they were at my side immediately. They sat with me while I processed my complex grief. When they asked what they could do for the funeral arrangements, I told them I needed chips and dip to round out the food for after the service and ended up with a comical abundance of assorted chips and dip. I still smile when I think about how we lived on those chips for weeks afterward.
At this point, they are family to me. We have celebrated and grieved together. Both their wins and losses feel like my own. As we begin our fourth decade of being in each other’s lives, I am so grateful that I have these two. I can take on literally anything with them by my side believing in me. In recovery and beyond, I feel loved, supported, and safe, and that truly makes all the difference.
