Friendship Isn’t Small Talk

Friendship Isn’t Small Talk

It’s Trust, Vulnerability, and Staying

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.H.I.P

If you’re close to me, it won’t surprise you that this is the first thing I chose to write about here.

Truth is, it’s been a while since I wrote something this long for a blog. Lately, my WhatsApp status and Instagram captions have gotten the best of my words—and, if I’m honest, my heart. But two things made me pause this year. One, someone said to me, “You need to stop hiding behind people.” And two, I’ve decided that this is my year of salt and light. So here I am—writing again, publicly, intentionally.

Also, friendship pushed me here. A friend told me I could do this. So… here we are.

Now, as much as this piece is about friendship, that introduction doesn’t exactly lead into the story I’m about to tell. But bear with me. I’m a bit of a storyteller—and fair warning, you might get addicted.

Earlier this week, I reached out to a friend about something I noticed she hadn’t activated on her WhatsApp for her business. I thought it was a simple fix. What I didn’t know was that the conversation would open up something deeper.

She explained why she couldn’t change the settings on her device. It was something she’d had to explain repeatedly to people. This same device—her main tool for content creation and pushing her business forward—was slowly giving up on her. A long-time relationship between human and gadget, nearing its final breath.

She tried to make light of it, but I asked more questions. That’s when I realized there was more beneath the surface. She went on to share brilliant ideas she had for her brand—ideas that could move things forward—but all of them were tied to finances. And we all know how money can be. Sometimes you barely have enough for yourself, so asking or even thinking of asking feels like too much.

I asked her if she had reached out to anyone in her circle for help. Her hesitation made sense. We’re adults. We have responsibilities. Nobody wants to feel like a burden.

But here are a few things I did—and lessons I took away—that reminded her (and me) that friendship is meant to be leaned on.

1. Offering
When she shared her situation, I offered to help in my own little way.

Sometimes help isn’t money. Sometimes it’s encouragement, perspective, showing someone possibilities they might have missed, or simply checking in.

I’ve learned that when I’m stuck—especially financially—kind words and presence matter more than we admit. Don’t box help into one shape.

2. No judgement
Fear of judgement keeps many of us silent. How will they see me? Will they still respect me? Will things change? A true friend reassures you that your vulnerability won’t be used against you. That your scars are safe with them. That being human doesn’t make you less….it makes you MORE.

3. Solutions, not just sympathy
Don’t be the friend who only sits in despair. You don’t have to be an expert, but sometimes shared knowledge, ideas, or clarity can make all the difference.

Now, flipping the script—I am also like my friend.

I often want to “super-human” my way out of problems. After all, everyone is dealing with something, right? Why add my own weight to theirs?

But here’s what I’ve learned.

1. Hyper-independence isn’t strength
There’s a point where doing everything alone stops being admirable and starts being unhealthy. I used to live there.

Now, “It’s okay to reach out for help” is one of my most repeated sentences—and I mean it.

2. The gift of men
There were days we prayed for the gift of people. Connections. Community. Now that some of us are living in the answer to those prayers, why are we afraid to use them? If these are truly your people, why can’t you be bare with them?

3. Trust your circle—or re-evaluate it
If you can’t trust those around you with your fears, emotions, and needs, then maybe it’s time to look again at the circle you’ve built.

Friends aren’t just for the hi’s and hellos. They’re for the long haul—the good, the bad, and the messy. Life comes with thorns more often than we expect, and we need our own humans to lean on.

I’ll end with a prayer I said to someone dear to me:

In 2026 and beyond, may you enjoy the gift of men.
May you have friends who see you through your mess and cover you in love without judgement.
May you have friends who fight for you in rooms you never stepped into.
May you have your own people.

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.H.I.P is truly beautiful—and I highly recommend it.
No overdose on this prescription, I promise.

Okay. Bye.