The Girls

Day 139 – April 11, 2026

There are some women who don’t just enter your life. They change its temperature. That’s what I’ve been thinking about today.

Because I keep coming back to the women in my life not in a vague “female friendship is beautiful” Pinterest way, but in the real way. The earned way. The body deep way. The kind that makes you realize there are women in this world who do not just tolerate your complexity, but know how to hold it, sharpen it, laugh with it, challenge it, and love it without asking it to become smaller first.

That means everything to me.

Especially now.

Because after what I’ve lived through, after all the ways reality has disappointed me, violated me, underestimated me, and asked me to keep functioning through the insult of it, these women feel like evidence that there is still something deeply holy about being known correctly.

They see me.

Not the easiest version. Not the polished version. Not the one that would be most convenient to keep around.

Me.

And they do it with this gorgeous mix of softness, honesty, humor, and strength that makes me want to stand up straighter just from being near them.

I admire them so much it almost silly.

They all have this kind of depth that doesn’t need to advertise itself. It’s just there. Strong, beautiful, emotionally real, not interested in bullshit, and somehow still capable of being soft in all the ways that actually matter. That kind of woman changes people just by being fully herself.

Each in their own way are just so deeply, stupidly, wonderfully badass. Gorgeous inside and out, yes, but not in that empty way people use “gorgeous” when they just mean photogenic. I mean gorgeous in spirit. In force. In presence. In the way they show up. In the way they love. In the way they protect.

That part gets me.

Because I think one of the things I’ve needed most, especially after the past year, is protection that doesn’t feel theatrical.

Not savior energy. Not performance. Real protection.

The kind that says I see what this costs you. I’m not afraid of the truth of you. You do not have to collapse to be cared for here. And I am not going to let you disappear into your own darkness without saying something smart, loving, annoying, and probably very correct. That kind.

And they do that.

They love me. See me. Hear me. Accept me. Encourage me. Challenge me.

That last one might be one of the biggest forms of love. To challenge someone not because you need them smaller or more manageable, but because you see who they are and know they are capable of more truth, more self respect, more life, more alignment than whatever old story is trying to trap them.

That is not control. That is love with standards. And apparently I find that extremely moving.

Roger, of course, believes all women he approves of should immediately understand his emotional importance and possibly also tell him he’s handsome. Which, to be fair, is not a difficult bar to clear.

He adores them too. He has excellent taste in women and I say that with no bias whatsoever.

There is something about this circle, this energy, this chosen softness with claws, that makes me feel more like myself. Not the smaller self. Not the wounded self only. The full self. The funny one. The smart one. The sexy one. The observant one. The one who is still becoming, yes, but not alone and not unseen.

That matters more than I can say.

So I’ll just say this… Women like this are rare. Women like this save things. Women like this remind you what kind of life is still possible.

Chaos in one hand. Grace in the other.

And the girl’s in my life, glorious, gorgeous, badass little miracles that they are, making my life feel bigger, safer, funnier, and much more mine.