Sunday night I added my first friend to my community. I was scared; fearful she’d flake on me. She showed up. I was late. I blame LA traffic. We talked. We shared. We laughed. We shed a few tears. Most importantly we both realized we weren’t alone.
We talked about our families and what it was like growing up in an American culture when your parents weren’t Americans. We talked about our siblings leaving us behind and getting engaged, getting married, and having kids. We talked about our parents and how odd it was that our friends call their parents everyday:”What do they talk about?” We talked about our online dating stories. We vented about the guys we deeply connected with but couldn’t seem to forget even though they hurt us. We shared the same frustration when we checked off everything on the “must do before getting married” list that our parents verbally handed us, but realizing our husbands forgot to show up. We talked about our churches – how we both grew up in fundamental, independent, Baptist churches and how it hurt us. We talked about our current churches and how much we love it now. We talked about the things God was teaching us. I talked about my therapy sessions and how my mom is a big part of the reason I go to therapy. How we’re both closer to our aunts than our actual moms. I teared up a bit as I shared patterns in my past relationships that were indicative of breakdowns in my mom and I’s relationship.
We shared our fears, our hurts, our desires, our struggles, and our prayers. We talked about what God was doing in our lives and what we want God to do in our lives. We are both in this season of singleness and the burden is lighter meeting someone else feeling the exact same way.