It's the best ship
Monday, April 20, 2015Posted by Jena Roach
Last night, while pounding half a tube of glorious Nestle Toll House, Grahm and I were talking about life here in San Antonio. Three years ago, we moved to the land of bluebonnets and sweat with nothing but a nearly empty bank account, a full-size mattress, boxes of unopened wedding presents, and an excitement for beginning our new life. Here's the thing. When you uproot your life and leave essentially every friend and familiarity you've ever known, you wonder when you're going to be out of the woods. Out of those lonely, maneuvering-through-the-bear-shit, will-I-ever-feel-at-home-again trees that can make you disoriented and bitter and equipped with the ever-present desire to eat your feelings.
Slowly, we meandered out of the friendless forest and found community within our church. It was a painfully slow process. The transition from "Hi, we're the Roaches; please like us despite our last name and our needy expressions" to feeling comfortable inviting someone to enjoy a meal with us was no walk in donut park.
Flash forward two years later. I have this tiny, perfect infant in my arms. My milk-crusted shirt (cause mama ain't got the energy to put on a bra), eye bags the size of soccer balls, and mommy mush brain made me the poster child for NyQuil and loneliness. The desire for someone to talk to (besides hubby dearest) was as real as my hankering for my sweet baby to sleep through the night.
The need for real friendships (the "hey, can you come over because I haven't had a conversation with someone other than my four-month-old pet rock and the cashier at Target and I just really need to feel normal even though I haven't showered in three days" kind) escalated when Sawyer entered my world. When you're ankle deep in diaper changes and counting the minutes till your husband gets home, you look around your empty house and begin to beg for companionship and solidarity... despite how happy you are to be doing exactly what you're doing.
I began to pray for deep friendships, for women I could relate to and love and encourage during this wonderful and really hard life transition. And the weirdest thing happened. He answered. San Antonio doesn't look like it did three years ago. I no longer have a running mental countdown of when we can move back to familiarity and old friendships. We are happy here. We feel at home. We are finally out of those God-forsaken woods and feeling like this city is where our family is meant to be.
I guess what I'm saying, kids, is you can live anywhere as long as you have real friendships with real people who really just get you. Words cannot express how thankful I am for the women in my life, pictured and not. Friendship really is the best ship to be in.
at 8:00 AM