I met my platonic soulmate, Chelsey when I was 21 years old.
I don’t think I realized quite how lonely I had been until we laughed together in the kitchen of our Berkley, California hippie living situation dressed in our long skirts and wool hats…
And I felt truly seen and truly met for the very first time.
She wanted to meditate in the stillest silence ever…
And make love in the loudest ecstasy…
Up until then, I suspected I was the only weirdo on the planet who craved such opposing (and surprisingly similar!) experiences…
But she wanted them, too.
She was my very, very best friend.
And I thought because she loved me – and because we loved each other – we could do anything together.
We finished college together – we travelled the world together – we made money doing slightly illegal things together – and we studied Tantra together and did meditation retreats together.
She was crazy stylish and crazy deep.
Then, when I was 25, she called me and said she never wanted to speak to me or see me again.
My heart broke.
And it was a different kind of pain than I’d felt before.
Sure, men had broken my heart. But I expected them to.
Chelsey was my friend. My chosen sister. She was forever.
Until she wasn’t.
She had her reasons and I can understand where she was coming from…
I was in therapy for my childhood sexual trauma and I was often depressive and could lash out for no reason.
I’d grown up in a family where screaming was the norm and I was pretty intense for her nervous system.
I could be harsh and unforgiving and controlling.
But after I’d processed the deep, deep pain, I wrote her a letter and shared with her that while I could understand her taking space…
What hurt the most was her saying she “never” wanted to see me again…
It felt like she was saying I could never get better.
That I would never overcome my trauma.
That I would never do better than my family taught me.
That I would never decide that my love for other people was stronger than my fear.
And to have my very best friend in the world say that was painful in ways I still don’t fully understand.
I’ve always been able to be close to women in my life…my momma will tell you I always had the very best friends.
But after that…well…it took a while to trust again.
I went through some of the deepest, most lonely years of my life.
So, I know what it can feel like to open yourself up completely to a female friend…
And have her judge you – hurt you – and abandon you.
But one thing I found was that when I pulled back and stopped loving the women in my life as a result…
I was sooooooo lonely.
Oh my god, it was unbearable.
So I started to trust again.
Started to share my deepest fears again.
And the friendships I made filled the deep loneliness in my heart that only female friends can.
I believe we can only really meet each other as women when we are willing to share it all – our highest highs and our lowest lows.
My friend Nisha Moodley said it in a way I love:
“I’ll be there to pop the champagne with you when it’s time to celebrate.
And I’ll be there holding the bucket when it’s time to puke.”
I teach the women in my courses (and I use this all the time in my own life)…
To do a process where you celebrate what you are proud of…
And then share what you fear…
And then what you desire.
It’s so freeing to talk about fears with other women.
In this video, I brought together a group of women who are strangers and asked them to share their fears and desires together.
Watch what happens (and learn the technique to use yourself)
Did you ever get your heart broken by a friend?
And if so, how did you get better?
If you want to share in the comments below, I’d love to listen.
Love,
Layla
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