Old Friends Becoming New Again and Peanut Butter

When I say “old” I don’t mean old age…I mean people I was friends with over 25 years ago.

One of the best things to come out my blog is re-connecting with people I went to public and high school with.

Lucky for me, one “old” friend reached out this week.

Her letter to me was thoughtful, caring and more than anything honest.  She too has dealt with her fair share of struggles for years.  Was I ever aware of it while we were growing up?  No.  Never.  She hid it, just like so many of us do.  We don’t want to talk about it because we are embarrassed and not sure people will understand.

That is when the problem becomes a huge problem.  When you don’t have anyone to talk to.  You don’t think anyone will understand.  I pray to gd that anyone reading this who is struggling, who has struggled, who knows someone struggling; does reach out to me to talk.  I’m here.  I understand.  I get it.  Probably better than any therapist you will ever see.  I have lived it for over half of my life so I get it.  I don’t have the answers, but I have something better.  I have experience, knowledge and the tools that have been helping me.

Many of the things my friend said, really resonated with me.  Here is one example:

I can understand how it is often“easier” to give in, I can understand how frustrating it can be when other people truly don’t get why you can’t “just do something about it”.

It is nice to know that many of the things I deal with on a day to day basis don’t effect justme.  It’s not nice that other people have to deal with it as well, but it makes me feel less alone.  So if I feel this way, it is good to know that my experiences hopefully make other people feel that they have support to reach out to.  I am here.  I am here to listen.  I am here to talk.  I am here to offer support.  I am here to offer advice.  I am here.

Throughout my journey I have felt that the very best tool is support.  Having people there for me to encourage me and support me.

My cousin the other day dropped off a gigantic box.

The card read:

I’m proud for you taking life one spoonful at a time.

I opened the gift and inside were 6 tubs of peanut butter and packages upon packages of skittles.

Something like this meant the absolute world to me.  The card, the thoughtfulness and most of all the encouraging words.  She’s proud of me.  Proud. Of. Me.  You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family.  I am so lucky to have someone in my family that will always and truly be my very best friend.  BTW AG – want to go to Applebee’s?

To make someone proud of you is quite an accomplishment.  To have that impact on someone is quite amazing.  And it’s gestures and thoughts like that make me have the will to get better.

So, yes…I had a shitty week with Cooper breaking his elbow.

But out of it came two, actually three great things:

  1. I re-connected with an old friend from High School.
  2. My cousin’s thoughtfulness gave me strength that will encourage me to continue to make her proud of me.  And I in turn am always proud of her and love her to death!
  3. My 6 year old son, who broke his wrist and required surgery showed me how to take a very bad situation and continue to smile and make the best out of it.  He really turned lemons into lemonade.  He really is my hero.


So, please know that if we knew each other when we were 10, 15, 20 or have never met, you can email me (shynz10@gmail.com).  For anything.  I am here.  Like I said, I don’t have the answers, but I can offer support.  And that is one of the best forms of medicine for anything in life.  Friends.

That and 6 kg of peanut butter.



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