Real is openness, sharing, giving of ourselves. Admitting when we’re scared, or lacking, or tired, or doubtful. Or when we’re happy or proud or excited.
Real has no poker face.
Real is messy – tears and sweat and late night worries, hugs and nerves and early morning butterflies.
Real walks up to the edge, peeks over the side, and stands there, undaunted. Right at the limit.
We are so much more when we are real – bigger, better, braver. When we hold ourselves up to the magnifier of real, when we let go of pretence and instead share the whole shebang, the good, the bad and the ugly.
As well as the wonderful times I’ve shared with friends, I’m so grateful for the real times, the times where I’ve had to help someone, to walk in their shoes, or have someone else do the same for me. While I don’t cherish those moments of loss, heartache, anger and pain, I am so grateful for the things they have taught me about my friends and about myself.
Because real is beautiful.