An Open Letter To My Gang

February 27, 2020

This year kicked my ass. No, like, really kicked it. A year of feeling like I was running and not moving, ongoing and still unsolved health issues, and a plot twist of a breakup which (truthfully) got pretty ugly behind the scenes for reasons I may never understand, and deaths of people I have loved dearly for a damn long time. I’ve been left scrambling to find some sense of ground under my feet in a new city, with new jobs (because y’all know I can never have just one, and now I can’t actually afford to not), and settling into a new normal.



This post isn’t about all that. This post is about my hype squad. This post is about the friends, family, and even strangers who have shown up fiercely and tirelessly in my corner. 


There is a saying that tough times will always reveal true friends, and I am here to tell you just how true that has turned out to be. You know how your brain plays that trick on you where you feel like people don’t really care that much? It is simply that: a trick. In this season that has punched me square in the jaw, I looked up to a hoard of people all reaching down to pull me back up.


To my family, who immediately knew a girl needed her Mom and sent her straight out. And my Mommy, who dropped everything and flew in to do nothing but hangout and make sure I ate food still. Who held me while I tried to navigate what the hell was going on and who squeezed me even tighter when I got a phone call that someone I loved with all my heart had died.


To my friends who let me stay with them while I bawled my eyes out and cussed like a sailor, taking over the fridge space with vegetables and living on an insane sleep schedule; my sisters forever.


To my friends who helped me move at a moment’s notice: thank you, I truly couldn’t have done it without you. Moving sucks, and you guys helped me do it not once but twice! You got me the hell outta there and I love yah for it.


To my friends who have fed me, made sure I got to yoga weekly, made me care packages and listened to me tell the same angry story 100 times, made sure I wasn’t alone for Christmas, made sure I was never alone really; my adopted family.


To my girls who check in weekly and even daily, sending me texts to remind me that I’m a rock star; my fucking hype squad. You don’t understand how much your love notes mean to me. I save them. For the podcasts, the advice, the book recommendations, the funny memes, the answered phone calls, the “girl you got this” messages, the hand-me-downs, and everything in between I am forever grateful. My girl gang has come out of the woodwork for me, boxing gloves on and ready to tilly with anything or anyone disturbing my peace. I want to smooch all your faces.


To my boys, because Lord knows you’ve had to deal with me too. Maybe it’s because we’re old now, but not one of you has shied away from this little pip squeak comin’ at you broken down. You guys have had my back big time, literally picked me up, poured coffee down my throat, made phone calls, and made sure I am taken care of. Some of my most candid conversations have been with my bro’s this year and I love that an insane amount. 


To my Cactus babes: I hit the bar with tears in my eyes the very first time I met most of you. You have all been my therapists the last few months and listened to every angry, sad, bitter, and pathetic thing I have had to say. You’ve been the ones who have been with me on the roller coaster as I’ve shifted into exciting and happy things and you have sent me away from every single shift with a smile on my face no matter if we’re up or down. I have never worked with a better team and I love you immensely.

To my yoga teacher and my nutritionist (and honestly, to Andy Frisilla, who will never read this but is the creator of the challenge that kept my ass on track): without you and the structure you have provided me the last few months, I don’t know what kind of state I would be in. You both truly have no idea how much you have helped, and I am glad to call you both friends.


To my guardian angels, because straight up, I gained a few this year and I truly think they’ve got me on the right path. I am so grateful to have shared time on this earth with you. The lessons you taught me I’ve been carrying closely and I’m doing my best to make you all proud.


To my clients who have graciously let me put life on hold for the last few months. I am so grateful for your patience.


To the people who have come into my life recently, or back into my life, who haven’t wanted to change where I’m at, have rolled with the punches, and have chosen to stick in my corner. You’re the good ones, you know that, right? 


To my dogs (who can’t read but deserve a shout out) who cuddle me, bring shoe presents, and are ecstatic to see me every single day no matter the state I’m in. The patience levels are up and down as I try to get us a new routine, we all yell at each other, but I wouldn’t trade them in for the world.


All this to say, whenever I feel like I just want to melt into the floor or give up… I look up and my hype squad is always right fucking there. If you’re reading this, that’s you. YOU are my hype squad. My gratitude for you is next level nuts. Thank you for ferociously having my back this year through health issues and a big break up, and deaths. Thank you for keeping the smile on my face and the air in my tires. 


A final thank you to 21. If you know me, you know I've been turning that age for a while now. This year I vowed to retire it. So, 21, you served me well. You taught me a lot. Thanks for getting me through my 20s in one piece.


TALK THIRTY TO ME, let's do it baby, it's gonna be a wild one.





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