I take a knife, slice a small creamy square, and watch it sizzle on the stove. I marvel at a thick pad of Kerrygold that drips down the sides of a hot short stack. This could be me, I think.
Like melted butter, I want to be soft.
When I was young, I was starved for friendship. I craved any kind of closeness, really. I grew up in a home that was emotionally distant. I talked to the carpet, sang to my stuffed animals, and had a wonderful imaginary friend who I would push on our rusty swing set in the garden. But never a real, warm hand to hold.
I was so soft back then, tender.
At school, I watched as the other girls stepped into their friendships with such ease, such confidence. I never knew how to do that. What I felt about friendship was closer to anxiety than natural companionship.
Please don’t leave me. I’m alone. I have no one else.
The richness of friendship confused me for a long time. I had constant questions about it swimming in my mind: Why did I feel so desperate in friendships? Why were other families closer to each other than mine? Why were my classmates so relaxed in their relationships and I wasn’t?
In those early formative years, I never found the answers to those questions. And I soon began to harden my heart towards others. There were years and years of hardening; a stick of margarine in the back of a cold fridge. I was unable to be open and vulnerable, unable to spread myself across a piece of toast.
I was hardened, but it was by choice. It made me feel safe. Or so I thought.
As an adult, I’ve been able to take a step back and reflect a lot on my childhood. I’ve allowed myself to sit and thaw on the kitchen counter. The warmth of time and wisdom has gently soothed the deep freeze of loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted.
It hasn't been easy, this great softening, and it has been a lot of work.
But little by little, I am seeing pieces of my young tender heart come back to me. I now understand that deep friendship comes from the ability to first love and be gentle with myself. Through the grace of God, I’ve come to have many wonderful real (not imaginary) friends in my life.
Like melted butter, I want to be soft.
I will be in pursuit of this softness for the rest of my days.
THIS! I think a lot of women experienced this loneliness during girlhood. It sticks with you for a long time. I think humility, that virtue that makes us think of ourselves less, is one of those Spirit-wrought traits that makes us soft toward others. Not weak, not vulnerable — but bravely soft. Not afraid to be hurt.
What a beautifully soft and buttery read, Lish! I too find this deeply relatable and has given me much to reflect on. Thank you 💜