The Inner Edit: A Story about Jenn

Jenn is my best friend. She lives in Eugene, though we talk on the phone almost every day. We met in college as Pi Beta Phi sorority sisters. We were the maids of honor in each other’s weddings, witnessed marriages and un-marriages, children in and children launched. And I could go on.

But the deepest gift we are to each other, and I get teary-eyed writing this, is that we can be the fullest expression of ourselves with each other. We can say when we did something and it was embarrassing. I sent her a 6-second video once that captured a moment my mind went completely blank during the opening of a talk I gave. The video is literally me walking silently across a stage, gaze down at my feet. It was my most embarrassing and insecure moment of failure… and we laughed our asses off.

When we’ve failed, when we are insecure, when we are angry and need to vent, we say it all. Recently I called her and said, “Can we talk about something? I feel this sense of impending doom, like something is wrong.” “When did it start?” she asked. “After I got off the phone with X.” Before I knew it, I was yelling angrily, “Bitch, back up off me!”… words I did NOT share in the actual conversation. Jenn’s response? “Yes, Queen, get it out!” I had no idea that’s why I was upset, but my body knew. And the safe world we’ve created allowed me to discover how I was actually feeling. When we’re in the depths of despair. When we are proud of ourselves. We say it all, regularly.

And she is hilarious. Like, ridiculously, have to bend over and hold your stomach in the middle of a walk hilarious. And beautiful. And the most giving person I know. She helps keep my body systems in order. My mom recently quipped “Ask your wellness provider,” and I am currently her life trainer, gently guiding her into the next version of herself. It is truly one of the greatest gifts of my life to walk through this life with Jenn.

Jenn recently did something brave.

For the first time, she traveled by herself. Sedona had been calling to her from afar. Jenn loves to hike and move her body, so a Backroads four-day hiking adventure was a clear fit. She didn’t want to go internationally for this first run, so Sedona felt like the perfect place to begin.

When Jenn was preparing to leave for her trip, she went for a riverside walk with a friend. During the walk, she told the friend she was about to go on this new adventure. The woman's first response? “Aren’t you afraid?” In true Jenn form, when she told me this story later, she said, “I wanted to push her in the river.” Into the river you go!

Of course Jenn was afraid. She had never traveled without her husband. She’d never navigated flights and gates and transfers and check-ins on her own, not because she wasn’t capable, but because she’d never had to. She was afraid, and she did it anyway. Jenn was willing to walk into expansion afraid. She understands that this is what expansion feels like. We get a pit in our stomach. Our brain yells, “Danger! This is new. Are we okay?!”

And we go anyway.

She came back with hilarious stories of her fellow transfer-van passengers stopping for Ho Hos and her involvement in facilitating random drop-offs to expedite the tiring journey from PHX to Sedona. “Yang Lee, is this your house?” yelled to the back of the van. “The driver is looking for your street number.” She told me about the moment she advocated for herself, negotiating with the front desk gal for a room change to the first floor due to a broken elevator. “No thank you to lugging my suitcase up several flights of stairs right before I launch into a week of hiking. We are 47. I will throw out my back." And meandering through a downpour in search of real coffee.

This is what expansion feels like. A pit in your stomach, impending doom, that we've lost our mind. I told Jenn, I stilllll feel a sense of - what the hell are you doing?! on my way to the airport when I travel. Are my kids going to be ok?! We feel these things, and do the damn thing anyway.