If We’re Being Honest.

I think it’s time I start writing more frequently.

You have no idea how amazing it is to have time to read things that spark actual thoughts worth writing about. And then to have time to think about what that writing would look like. And then to have time to actually write.

Planning a wedding is time consuming, yo.

On that note, I’ve got some thoughts.

I’ve been struggling with this idea that I’m not a very good friend. I’ve never been good at calling people back or initiating a conversation. and when your friends live in different places all across the country, that kind of thing is a necessity sometimes.

There are ladies (and gents) that I’ve absolutely fallen in love with over the past five years in the blogging universe. And every year, we’ve been able to reconnect in person. With the end of Bloggers in Sin City came the end of that reconnect opportunity. Now we have to work harder to reconnect on our own time and our own dime. I want to spend time with these people. I want to fly across the country for a weekend to attend a birthday party. But, money. And work. And time. And fear of rejection, if we’re being honest.


I want to make it a goal to reconnect with these people who are my people. I want to be the person they call or email (if we’re being honest) or gchat when they have exciting news or need to vent or want someone to be in their wedding or etc.

I see all these people putting in the work, and I know I’m not doing that. And I know that’s why my friendships have stalled. And I know I do this every year. And then I usually apologize and start reconnecting just before we get ready to head to Vegas. And then the cycle begins again. But this year, there’s no Vegas. So the cycle can’t continue. I have to make the change, adjust, and put in the damn work. But where do I even begin? I don’t know how to be a friend to someone I don’t see on a regular basis. I don’t know how to initiate anything. I’m awkward. I don’t have close friends.

And I’m afraid of developing those with local people who I have the potential of seeing every day because every time I put in the work, they hurt me. Like, stab me in the back lie and blame me for the relationship disintegrating type of hurt. Real pain. It still hurts to think about those relationships. I want a close friend who’s not my husband. But fear.

And distance. And effort. And fear. If we’re being honest.

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