Wednesday, March 18, 2009

My Magical Best Friend

Four days after I left my ex, I flew to San Diego to be with my best friend. I knew that I had to be with her, well before I even knew when I was leaving him. I knew in my gut that the one thing I truly needed was to be sitting on her couch and talking to her. When I arrived in San Diego from the horrible, snowy and desolate Chicago, I stepped outside and felt the warm air, looked up at the palm trees and felt like I finally arrived home. Knowing of my affinity for theme candies, especially of the Easter variety, she greeted me with flowers and Peeps.

I say she is magical because when she tells me I can do something, something that seems totally impossible, I follow her instruction, and then all of sudden, like magic, I am able to do it. She is convinced I can achieve the seemingly impossible. And with her convictions, I do the things I am scared of doing and find out that I actually can do them and not only that, I’m good at them.

I remember very early in our friendship I was in a relationship that I wanted very much to end but didn’t know how to end. She was about to leave for a 4 month stay in Israel, and I was in crisis. I accompanied her to the airport and saw her off as she left for Israel. We waited together at the gate, saying our tearful good-byes and right before she got on the plane, she pulled herself together, hugged me, grabbed my shoulders, looked into my eyes with a startling intensity, and said, “You have break up with him. It's going to be okay.” Then she got on the plane and waved good-bye. Very shortly after that, with the courage of her conviction, I finally did just that. When it was over, I was relived and not only that, I was okay.

Years later, I realized where my true passion lied, in interiors. Again, she had always encouraged this, but I nervously laughed it off and kept it in the back of my mind. Then finally, I applied to a BFA program in Interior Design and I was so scared. I was convinced I wouldn’t be any good. I didn’t really know how to draw, I wasn’t an artist. Yes, I had taken art classes for many years but never seriously. I signed up and got my first semester class list. Drawing. Drafting 101. Freshman Seminar.

Drawing? Drafting? I can’t do any of those things! I will fail; I have no idea how to be any good at that sort of thing.

But as I went on and on about how I was about to make a big mistake, that I couldn’t possibly be any good at this, she said to me in that same unshaken, undeniable way, “They’ll teach how to do all those things. You’ll learn and then you’ll be great.” So I went to school and little by little, I did learn. It was incredible. I was not only able to do it, but I was really good at it. Just like she said.

And when I arrived in San Diego I was served a dose of those same convictions, just like I knew I would. She told me she was so proud of me, that I did the right thing, that I was not only going to be okay, but I was going to be great.

And I believe her. She is magical after all.

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