Sometimes life is simple, and sometimes life is hard. I’m going to be turning 29 in less than two weeks, and I feel like in the friendship area, I haven’t accomplished much. Most people at this age have made lifelong friends already, and have had friendships that have lasted years, if not decades. Some lucky souls out there even still consider their grade school best friends their current best friends. I’m not one of those lucky ones. Sometimes I feel like I’m marked. Or dented. But I don’t have the receipt to trade myself in for a new one. I guess I’m just stuck to deal with the dent marks and make it work for me.

If I were to be honest with myself, I think in no uncertain terms, I’m a bit of a decrepit. I’m a little dysfunctional. I’m a little wounded. I’m a little scarred. If I were to be honest with myself, I’d admit that I am far than perfect, and sometimes I don’t always love everything that is who I am. If I were to be honest with myself, I would admit openly and willingly, without fear of consequences, that I truly miss having a “best” girl friend. Like, someone who I’ve known for years and years and can finish my sentences before I even start them. Someone who I feel comfortable sitting in silence with, or jabber on and on for hours with. I feel like all my life, I’ve been “on the move,” when it comes to friendships. While I found a best friend in the man I married, there is something that only another woman can provide in a friendship. The same-sex camaraderie, the intrinsic understanding, the “I know what you mean before you even say it” sisterhood.

For me, “deep” friendships with other females come and go. They start off strong, really really in depth. As if I just plunged myself into a swimming pool without looking if there’s even water in it to sustain me and keep me afloat. And during the flight itself, plunging into the air towards a possibly-empty giant hole in the ground, I feel ecstatic that I found the pool in the first place. I feel like I’m on a high. I feel hopeful, full of life, like anything is possible. I feel like there SHOULD be water when I hit something, simply because I am willing it to be. Simply because my secret Jedi powers are just. that. strong. That’s how friendships with females start with me: strong at first, powerful in the beginning.

And then, as if out of nowhere, I hit solid ground, in the dirt, and there was no water to begin with. I misjudged. Yet again. I eat dirt. My face scrapes. I bleed into the ground. I am left with more scars. And what do I do afterwards? As if I am a glutton for punishment, I go looking for more pools of water to dive into without looking.

I’m turning 29 in just a couple of weeks, and outside of my family, I don’t feel close to many people. I feel like I’m floating. I’m not grounded. I feel like no one cares about me. That I give too much and I’m discarded because I’m a dime a dozen. I’m 29 and I feel alone, without a friend in the world. Not just acquaintances, not just friends, really. But soul sisters. Without soul sisters.

Most of the time, I blame my mother. The relationship between my mother and me has been so confusing, so all-or-nothing, so damaging, so … UGH … that I feel like I’ve been stunted for life. I was never taught how to stay healthy in a friendship relationship with another female because the first relationship I had with a female was so unhealthy and suffocating. Most of the time, I blame my mother. But for God’s sake, I’m going to be 29. It’s time I take responsibility for my own mishappenings and my own actions. I can only blame her for so long. It’s time I take a look at myself deeper and figure out why no one wants to be my soul sister. Figure out why I’m so dispensable. And figure out why I don’t value myself enough to put boundaries on people and allow them to love ME for who I am instead of for what I’m willing to do for them.

Maybe by 30, I’ll have the answers. But I have a feeling this is just the beginning…