The other day after going out for my birthday for dinner, my friend ran into an old friend at the pub and stayed to chat.
Later she messaged me and said that he (the friend) had been watching us and was jealous that we had our shit together.
And I laughed and laughed and laughed.
Seriously. Shit together.
I can probably think of 100 ways my metaphorical shit, is not together.
And I told her so.
And she said “Yeah, but you’re married to the love of your life. You’ve got two beautiful children. You’ve got great friends to go out with and celebrate…”
The shit that matters, I’ve got it together.
I’ve got friends who would (and sometimes do) bend over backwards for me.
I’ve got an amazing support network who’ve been there this year for me, through all of my whining. All of my rubbish moments and rants and tantrums.
They’ve listened to it.
And on top of that, they’ve told me *I* make this town a better place. Like seriously.
If that isn’t the important stuff to have together I don’t really know what is.
Like sure, it would be nice if my laundry was folded and put away as soon as it was done but hey, one thing together at a time and this is a pretty big thing.