An Open Letter to All the Men who are Not My Husband (Well, almost all!)

Now, more so than ever before in my lifetime, I am beyond, blessed with female friendships. In my younger years, the loss of my mother at such a young age made bonding with other women difficult and tenuous at best.

Today, my women friends mean the world to me. My sister-in-law and my nieces, a beautifully renewed and blessedly restored relationship with my step-mother, and the addition of my son’s fiancé and her female family members have all been most welcome injections of estrogen-based love in my life.

I’ve written before about how important these connections are to me, how hard I’ve worked to cultivate these friendships with these amazing, empowered, resilient women and at my husband’s urging no less with those fateful words, “Now, Malia, you’re going to have to make some friends.” So, now. Now, I have these friendships, these bonds, where expression of emotion is valued, where it actually contributes to the health of the relationship. Wow! That has blown my hair back!

And, then, there are the men in my life. For many, many years, I was the rare girl surrounded by a family full of males in various stages of maturity; my dad and his lifelong friends, my uncles on all sides, my brother and all of his friends, my husband, his brothers, my father-in-law, my son and his passel of friends. I fondly call it boy-world, and I am a card-carrying, lifetime member of the boy-mom club.

Before we go any further, I want to make it clear that this is not some sort of treatise on the differences between men and women, if such a thing even exists. I am strictly sharing my experience. Period.

So, let me explain. Living in boy-world and becoming a boy-mom, I found that I had to be a little tougher. My skin had to be a little thicker. Open, emotional expression just didn’t carry weight in that world. Please don’t get me wrong. We certainly had two-way communication where we shared how we felt about subjects, but the men in my life just didn’t commonly use the language of emotion that is so skillfully wielded by the women I know and love. It’s not at all that I couldn’t or wasn’t allowed to be emotionally expressive. It’s just that I found that it wasn’t productive. It didn’t move conversations or situations forward. So, I adapted. I adapted my style of communication, the way I expressed what I was feeling.

Honestly, I used to love it when Paul or our son would complain about me (yes, really!), would shoot each other knowing looks when they were using an extra measure of patience with one of my big ideas, or would lovingly joke about my little eccentricities or quirks.  To me, it meant they loved me fully, me and all my imperfections. It was a great comfort for me, a bit of a perfectionist, to know that I didn’t have to be perfect in order for them to fully love me. They got me. They completely accepted me, and took joy in me.

All of this to say, I am so thankful for all of these men in my life, too.

I love that my son now offers me wise counsel. I have sought his input on numerous occasions in the last two years since his father passed away. He never flinches. He never fails to tell it like it is and protect my best interest.

And so, so many other men in my circle of family, friends, neighbors, church family, and colleagues have stepped in and stepped up to help me over and over again. It feels good to seek and receive their assistance and guidance when needed; like when the hot water heater quit working, when the garage door broke, when the dryer vent needed replacing, when a hurricane blew out the porch screens, when I needed advice on how to handle situations. And, then, too, when my emotions were too high, and I needed an objective point of view to help me sort things out, or when I needed protection from others who were trying to take advantage.

I value their honest feedback (you know who you are!), their words of encouragement (you know who you are!!), the challenges they’ve presented me with (yes, you!), and even their gentle correction when my perception was in error or I was just plain wrong (thank you, that would have been a huge mistake!).

I.am.thankful.

I can certainly, absolutely take care of myself. I know that now, but thankfully, I don’t have to. Not all of the time anyway.

Malia

“Now, Malia, you’re going to have to make some friends.”

I have written a lot about the importance of connections. Connecting with others has perhaps been the area of greatest personal growth for me during the grieving process. Paul knew it would be. The title of this post is literally one of the last coherent thoughts he was able to share with me. He knew my ability to “make some friends” would be critical. It’s not that I was completely friendless, but for me, my family was not just enough, they were my everything, my all-in-all. I didn’t feel like I needed more.

I.was.wrong.

I have worked hard to deepen current friendships and cultivate new connections, and it has made all the difference. Cultivate is exactly the right word here. Like a gardener cultivates flowers, growing a friendship takes time, work, attention, and the nourishment of emotional sunshine. I am learning how to do that because my connections, my friends, are teaching me. I have the most amazing group of what I call support sisters. They have taught me and are still teaching me how to be a friend. They show me every day with love, support, laughter, and tears, the sad kind and the happy kind. They are the real-deal steel magnolias. Here’s what I’ve learned so far about making and keeping friends.

Reach out

Ask for and offer help. Easier said than done. I know. I am the queen of “I can do it faster and better if I just do it myself.” Not true. What people really mean when they say something like this is that it takes less of their own energy to engage others in the completion of a task. And while that part may be true, it is, at the same time, a loss. The contributions of others have enormous value both to the outcome and the emotional well-being of those engaged in the process.

Be present

If you are invited, go. It doesn’t matter whether or not it is something that necessarily appeals to you personally. That’s not the point. Go, and enjoy being together.

Support their efforts

Whatever they are into, support it with time, energy, and positive contributions. Be their cheerleader!

Use multiple ways to communicate

Social media has many drawbacks, but it can be really useful for staying in touch. If you are an introvert (like me) and there is a limit on the number of face-to-face conversations you can have each day, use other ways to reach out, communicate, and support. Phone calls, Facebook, texting, Marco Polo, Instagram, Snapchat….the list goes on and on. Snapchat’s tag line is, “The fastest way to share a moment!” It’s pure marketing genius because it’s true. Making and maintaining connections is as much about sharing the little moments as it is about being there for the big ones.

Because a picture is worth a thousand words, the rest of this post will be worth a million.

The women in these photos have been my rock. They have cried with me and laughed with me. They have been with me to mourn and to celebrate. I could not get through this journey without them, and I am so grateful! I am still learning about friendship. I am sure there are lots of ways that I fall short, but I am growing. Thanks to them. They are still teaching me every day. My hope and prayer is that I am able to return even a small portion of what they have given me.

Much love to all my sisters, Malia