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Because no one knows me better.
By Unwritten — Written on Mar 31, 2022
By Rebecca Cumming
Is it even your 20s if you don’t have regular breakdowns about your future, men, family and whatever other curveballs you’ve been facing?
Is it even your 20s if you don’t feel insecure about your weight, what you’re wearing, or the b****y encounter with that colleague at work?
Is it even your 20s if you don’t express all of this to your girlfriends, with detail, and yes, hopefully armed cocktail in hand, on a week-to-week, maybe even day-to-day basis?
Insecurity is my middle name and, no, I don’t feel ashamed saying this: I embrace it. Why? Well, because that’s what your 20s are for.
The best results come from a place of insecurity, out of stepping out of your comfort zone and out of questioning yourself. This is where we find answers and this is where we become who we are.
The thing about this is that none of us have the answers, and we rarely consistently look within ourselves to find them. When I reflect on who I might have leaned on to find these answers, I see my parents sometimes, I see a boyfriend sometimes, I see my colleagues sometimes, but I realize that I always seem to see my girlfriends.
They were there when my parents were being a pain. They were there when my boyfriend cheated on me. They were there coaching me on my interview skills. They were there discussing the best technique and products to use to look 5 shades darker for the event I’m intending (even though it’s the middle of winter).
And, let’s be honest, even when you were pissed off at one of your girlfriends, there was another girlfriend you turned to for advice on how to fix it (or shamefully vent about it with).
Between applying each other’s face masks at sleepovers in middle school, to determining how high our heels can be on a Friday night in our 20s, these girls have been there for the little things, the big things, and all the in-between things.
I have these ladies to thank for actually keeping me stable and, frankly, sane.
I come home everyday to girlfriends that are ready to hear how my day was and how the wind f***ed up my hair on the way to work and completely ruined the vibe for the day, and if they can send me that recipe for skinny quinoa enchiladas.
Oh, and do they want to do an ab workout tonight? “I ate two cookies today after lunch — I both hate and love myself.”
There’s no one quite like your girlfriends who care about this s***, or know this many details about your life. That’s right, ladies, not even that man of yours is worried about how your eye makeup looks or what the tone of voice Lisa used with you at work that day really means.
And when that man of yours makes you feel in any which way sad, angry, or confused? Your girlfriend is there with a bowl of popcorn, a glass of wine and a voice of reason. Because, in that moment, you certainly don’t have one.
This is the same for any trouble or treason we go through in our personal, professional and social lives.
We get confused, we lose our comfortable footing, we fall through the cracks of assurance sometimes and lose ourselves in insecurities because we are figuring it out. But this is where, every single time, I can bet on a girlfriend being there with a pulley system of pure strength to lift me back up through those cracks.
Heck, she probably doesn’t even know what she’s talking about (maybe she even throws in a white lie or two), but she sure as hell will say anything she can to empower me, tell me what I need to hear, and bring me back to, well... being me.
Because no one knows me better. I’m giving a big ol’ cheers to those ladies in my life that I consider true soulmates.
The ones who pop my pimples, the ones who tell me the cookies I baked were a bit crispy, but “don’t worry, it’s the oven!” The ones who catch my tears in a bed full of an unnecessary amount of pillows, and the ones who are my voice of reason when I simply don’t have one.
I love you.
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Rebecca Cumming is a writer whose work has been featured on Unwritten and YourTango. For more of her content, visit her author's profile on Unwritten.
This article was originally published at Unwritten. Reprinted with permission from the author.