It is just kitchen talk...

​Sitting in the kitchen with a friend tonight, the discussion began with a few topics, including true happiness, friendship, marriage, social status, and what it is we really want from life. I mean, it is the most boring yet most interesting, fascinating, heartbreaking, and honest conversation you can ever have - depending on how you have it, of course.  I think it is important for every person to have this conversation with a friend or with themselves, but you need to be honest.  Brutally honest.  

It's funny how, for me, in most conversations, I end up being the one being said to: "We will talk again when you get there," or "One day you will get to experience this too..."; many times I received the "You don't have children yet..." and then there's the "You are too young to understand."  I get it, though, I say too little.  I don't like talking about the past, and I hate reminiscing about the things that hurt me most.  There's a reason I live my life the way I do... in solitude.   

People assume I’ve never faced hardship, and I let them believe it—some stories are better left unspoken. I guess, most of the time, I would just smile and make them believe what it is they want to, because it is easier than telling my stories or opening up old wounds.  

In all fairness, I write about things much more easily than I talk about them. 

Having had all of the conversations I had over many years in kitchens, what I find incredibly fascinating is the human soul, mind, and our capability to consume and then process what has happened to us.  Our needs and dreams are floating like a cloud in between, waiting to turn into a storm and let all hell break loose come the day it all falls down. 

What did we tell ourselves?  What did we tell our friends?  Don't worry, this is just a phase.  This is not serious.  Why is it that we don't have these honest conversations anymore?  

Why do we not let each one express themselves?  And I don't mean in the new extreme way of modern society that has forced us to fit into one box, and one box alone.  I talk about a heart-to-heart conversation... late-night kitchen talks that make you think about situations differently, that make you feel loved and accepted and safe.

We became too afraid to say what we truly feel because of a social climate that is currently ruling the world and all of us.  We are so scared to talk about our fears, dreams, and desires because we think it might offend someone or not be enough for others. We accepted a vain community that puts things before emotions. Money before happiness. We started as friends who lifted each other through every struggle, but somewhere along the way, genuine support was replaced with shallow praise for money, status, and appearances—we don’t show up for each other anymore unless there’s something to gain.  

And then...

One day... BOOM. 

Someone killed themselves. We don't know why.  But did we ask the questions?  Were we involved enough to notice? 

One day... BOOM. 

We are no longer friends.  Do we know why?  Did we care enough to take time to know each other's pain, or perhaps we weren't flexible enough to meet each other halfway? 

One day... BOOM. 

Families are no longer speaking to each other.  Do we even care to fix it, or is it too much trouble?  Do we casually accept the way the world works now?

One day... BOOM. 

Cancer hits.  Why did we keep it all to ourselves?  Why did we not talk about it? Did we not feel safe enough to tell someone what's been eating away at us?

One day... BOOM. 

We stand in front of a grave being filled with nothing but emptiness.  Did we make enough memories? Do we cry because we made the best of the time we had together, or do we cry because we neglected the people we should've cared about more?

When will it be too much to feel deeply or care openly, and when will it be too little to show up, to listen, to simply be there? There’s a quiet war between giving too much of yourself and giving so little that the connection fades—and somewhere in between, people start to drift, not from lack of love, but from the fear of being too much or not enough.

Suddenly, I remember my Grandma, Mom, and Aunts sitting in the kitchen on the farm. I guess that's where most of their discussions started as well... Just like it is happening to me right now! The only difference is, my Grandma had a way with people and life that I could never explain.  I was just a child, but I remember them having deep conversations.  Sometimes there was crying, and sometimes there was laughter. 

But the one thing I always knew without a doubt was that there was love and support. 

Now, all of a sudden, I understand how they could sit in the kitchen, talking about all kinds of things for hours. Those were the times they spent together, opening up, filling each other with hope and love, and supporting one another - even if it was to participate in life just one more day. This is not just kitchen-talk... most of the time, the conversations are life-changing, where you can feel deeply, cry freely, and be honest. You give a part of yourself in order to heal someone else.  

My advice (from the kitchen): 

Find your person(s)...

Don't let a moment go by without sharing as much as you can. Especially the important things! Be vulnerable. Empty your heavy heart and allow your friends to do the same, without judgment.

Heaven is far, no one needs to carry that much baggage on a trip meant to be light as a feather. 

Let it go.

Let it be. 

Find a friend. 

Be the best friend you can be!