It’s been a theme lately. In the books I’ve been reading, conversations I’ve been having, thoughts that keep me up at night.

Brokenness.

It’s the key to relationships. It’s what binds us together.

It doesn’t make sense. Since my whole life I have tried to cover and hide the parts of me that are imperfect. My fears, anxieties, insecurities, weaknesses.

But those. Those are the key to deep relationships. When you are finally close enough to show them the broken pieces.

There is nobody I look up to more than a person who is honest.

No, not a person who is perfect. Not someone who has it all together.

But someone who is real. Who admits that they don’t have it all together.  That they don’t know everything. That they too, are still figuring it out.

Our weakness is what makes us relatable. It’s when my friend is telling me that she feels lonely, that I am able to look at her and say, “I’ve been there too”. When another friend is telling me that she is afraid that she won’t be able to handle her new job, I can look at her and say, “I’ve felt that. Change is scary.”

You aren’t alone. 

Isn’t that the basis of all friendship? Of any deep relationship? Knowing, that not just in the good times, but in the hard times, someone will be there. With ice cream and hugs. Not with the perfect answer. Sometimes, just silence is good enough. Just someone to sit with us in the lonely, terrifying, hard moments of life. And tell us…

I’m here with you. 

I’ve never been comfortable in really fancy furniture stores. The ones where couches are stark white, and random ugly paintings are sold for $7,000. I feel out of place. Like I have to tip-toe around. Because everything is perfect. Everything is clean. Everything is expensive.

I don’t want friendships like that.

I don’t want relationships where I have to tip-toe. Where I am concerned about bumping something and shattering it into a million pieces. Where I am constantly holding my breath, hoping that I don’t do or say something wrong.

I much prefer antique stores. Where things look worn, and used, and like they have been from here to Texas and back…in the back of a pickup truck. Where everything has a story.

Because I want friends who will not be afraid of my mess. And Lord knows some of my days are messy. I want friends who have been through some dirt too. Who have stories of broken hearts, bad days, hard changes, new beginnings.

So here I am. Learning one day at a time that what I want from people is the same thing they want from me.

Honesty. Vulnerability. Brokenness.

And it’s not easy. I know it’s not. Because I would much rather be the girl who has it all together.

But I’m learning that perfection is a lonely place to be. There are so many more people willing to hang out with a girl who is still figuring it out, than someone who pretends to have already figured it out.

These girls.

These are the ones I couldn’t live without.