I could barely understand her in between the heaving sobs and the words tumbling out quickly, but I did catch enough to know she was alone and feeling unseen and unwanted. My ten-year-old, Elly, was at a middle school event that included an overnight and she was the only one her age in the “girls room” and she wasn’t connecting with the older girls, add to the mix that it was nearly 11pm and she was over tired and the recipe for a meltdown was perfect. We talked about what she was feeling, what she felt like she wanted to do and she decided to hang up with me and lay down to sleep and hope that the next morning would bring the chance to feel like part of the group and possibly make a new friend.
Relationships are grown when we see each other and choose to walk towards one another, crossing the emotional bridge that lays between us, to meet in the middle.
What keeps you on your side of the bridge? I am assuming that you agree that the space between you and me, you and another is like a bridge. In a healthy relationship, we meet in the middle often and on other occasions I may come further across and vice versa. Sometimes during a difficult season one of us is willing to come across the bridge often while the other rests and heals.
And, in an unhealthy relationship one of us is making the trek across the bridge time and time again while the other rests in a lounge chair sipping sweet tea and reading a magazine. (Ok, so maybe it could be a bit more depressing, busy or distracted than that…but you get the drift, someone is doing the work to come across and the other person isn’t working much, although they’re probably super glad you trekked across to meet them.)
I’ve been thinking about my bridge.
I spent a lot of years being quick to cross it. I think there’s a myriad of reasons why and truthfully, I have not always run across thoughtfully or with care and intention, often I’ve done it because somewhere a long time ago I internalized a message that if I didn’t cross the bridge no one was coming for me and I would be left alone.
As is true with most of our childhood survival tactics they only ensure that what we are trying to avoid is actually what we experience. While always being the one to cross the bridge creates a lot of energy and movement that mimics connection it doesn’t address that deep place inside that wonders if anyone sees me, knows me, and cares enough to come find me. That place that Elly was in touch with at the overnight when no one was seeing her or coming over to invite her into their group.
As women, I think this dynamic is very real. We are ambivalent about our relationships with one another. We love being seen and we dread being seen. We love to find that we share the same tastes in clothing and home décor and we tirelessly compare ourselves. We celebrate one another and we can be vicious to one another. We want to rest in our friendships and we resist resting in our friendships. We want to walk across the bridge because we hold so much love and gratitude in our hearts for one another and we want one another to walk across to prove that we are worthy and that we matter and that we are chosen.
There are neglected places inside of us that ache for attunement, care and the companionship of a fierce and tender hearted friend.
Nearly every day I drive across the spectacular Capital of Texas Highway Pennybacker Bridge.
It’s becoming a sacred thing as I sit in traffic waiting to cross the bridge to consider my relationships and where I am walking the bridge and where I am finding others walking towards me.
I want to be a woman who leans into the reality of my ambivalence and chooses to love with fierce tenderness, I want to rest in the reciprocal love of my friends who show up and do the same for me. I want for those friendships to be inviting and inspiring to other women.
I want to meet in the middle of the bridge often and with joy.
Let’s become women who cross the bridge to meet in the middle, imagine what could becomes possible if we do.
Tracy Johnson is a lover of stories and a reluctant dreamer, living by faith that “Hope deferred makes the heart sick but when dreams come true there is a life and joy” (Pro. 13:12). She is the Founder of Red Tent Living. Married for 30 years, she is mother to five kids. After a half century of life, she’s feeling like she may know who she is. She writes about her life and her work here.
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Incredible post! So loved it. It gave words to the desire in my soul. Thank you much Tracy.
Sent with a splash of joy !
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Kim, you are so welcome, and I love the splash of joy!
I loved the bridge analogy of meeting half way or the other two options that we sometimes choose. “As is true with most of our childhood survival tactics they only ensure that what we are trying to avoid is actually what we experience.” How very true. Thank you for writing this Tracy. Thought provoking for sure.
I am glad the analogy resonated. Hoping you are finding yourself with friends meeting in the middle.
That was beautiful, and so much truth. I ,too cross a bridge every day to work and every day I am in awe of the beauty surrounding me. Now I have a new way to look at that bridge. Thank you for your words of wisdom.
Angie…you are welcome, and I hope that bridge you cross can become a place of hope in the days ahead.
I love this: I want to be a woman who leans into the reality of my ambivalence and chooses to love with fierce tenderness.
Yes! I say you are AND you invite this. And good job showing up as a landing space to rest for Elly’s heart.
You are one of my bridge friends Joanna, and I am so grateful. ❤️
And who would’ve thunk…
Tracy- I love the imagery of the bridge and your beautiful truth: “…I want to rest in the reciprocal love of my friends who show up and do the same for me.” Great reminder!
It is strange to me how we resist that rest, I hope you and I both enjoy it more with our friends in the days ahead Natalie. Thanks for responding.
Dear Tracy, thank you for this entry. It has caused me to stop and think about my actions in ways that I have not done before. “It’s becoming a sacred thing as I sit in traffic waiting to cross the bridge to consider my relationships and where I am walking the bridge and where I am finding others walking towards me.” How wonderful to have a daily reminder to reflect on caring for yourself and for others. I do not have a daily bridge, but I hope to keep this imagery in my heart to remind me of my actions and my love for others…
Daily reminders are such a blessing, aren’t they?! I see you as woman who crosses to the middle Becky, I hope you find tender and fierce companions meeting you there.
A friend reached out to me yesterday, and since our conversation, I have been pondering how my childhood survival tactics don’t work for me any more. I wanted to walk across the bridge, but I held back. Your words and images inspire me and give me the courage to take some steps. thank you.
Madeline, thank you for this vulnerable really. I pray for courage as you consider how to take those steps, it can feel so daunting to do something new in a friendship. Blessings to you.
Yes I agree. This is a beautiful piece. It was so engaging and thought provoking for me Tracy as a friend and a mother. The image of crossing the bridge is so vivid. It left me with a hunger to hear more…just in case you ever feel called to write a book on friendships with women…it would be a treasure 🙂
Thanks Rachel…I will add that idea to my “book I am going to write someday” folder. Your words brought a smile to my face.
I spent a lot of years being quick to cross it. I think there’s a myriad of reasons why and truthfully, I have not always run across thoughtfully or with care and intention, often I’ve done it because somewhere a long time ago I internalized a message that if I didn’t cross the bridge no one was coming for me and I would be left alone.
Tracy,
I look forward to reading your blogs, knowing that most often I will be challenged to look deep within myself. As you mention friends and friendships, I acknowledge my longing for friendships that challenge me and invite me to think past the comfortable places. Few are willing to travel that path. I’m then curious about the barriers I build to discourage the entry on that path. Good words today to ponder. I also like the idea of “fierce tenderness” .
Welcome back to Texas!
Jaimi, thanks for your words. I share your longing for friendships that challenge and invite me to think more deeply. I pray you will find such friendships growing for you in the weeks and months ahead. I smiled when I read your words about liking the idea of “fierce tenderness”…I have known you to possess that quality.
Love this my friend…wish I could meet you on the bridge…soon💜MJ
Oh me too MJ, wishing we could meet on the bridge in SoHa!
Tracy, there is so much I love about this entry and the truth it holds. I have run across the bridge for fear no one would ever come for me and learned through the kindness and love of women like yourself that it is good to sometimes cross all the way, sometimes to allow others to care for me and cross the bridge and most of the time to be willing, curious and brave enough to meet in the middle. There are times I look back on with regret because I was afraid to cross or even meet in the middle, but also times where meeting in the middle, though fear-inducing — resulted in goodness and care for us both. Thank you for your heart that invites, cares, is curious, and allows others to care for you. Your vision to provide space for women to grow closer to each other is so life-giving. Thank you. Much love to you, Christine
Tracy, I’ve been exceptional at racing across the bridge, to the point of terrifying people into fleeing….so my response has been: I won’t cross that bridge and I won’t wait for the other to cross toward me. But recently: to be able to place out an invitation, to receive the love offered for a mini celebration has been the opportunity to discover the wonder and miracle of bridges. Your words reflect and help me to ponder further the offering of self and receiving of presence as the powerful connector in my path to live in the power of Grace. Thank you.