It's been over a month since my last post. I can say for certain I lost a bit of my Debbie mojo during that time, and I'm doing my best to find it again. I considered topics to write about. I opened my laptop, turned it on, and then turned it off minutes later when inspiration didn't strike me. I thought of things to write about as I drove. I forgot to write them down. I had crazy-ass dreams that I considered trying to recall. I forgot those too. When we are not feeling like our optimized selves, it permeates all aspects of our lives. I'd gotten out of my routine somehow, and the rest of my flow, well, didn't flow as a result!

For me, one of the best healers is time spent with my dearest friends. I am fortunate to have many wonderful and fulfilling friendships, but there's something invaluable about those few that are your truest inner circle of tribe mates.

I remember the first time I'd really considered this word 'tribe.' It was the summer of 2012 and I along with three other families was invited to be a part of a test run group for a brilliantly combined effort by Square Peg Foundation, Horse Boy Foundation and Indo Jax Surf School to create a dreamy and inclusive experience for families of children with autism. Rupert, the creator of the Horse Boy method and father to Rowan, an amazing young man with autism, kept mentioning this word 'tribe' to us during the three days we were together. At first I thought it to be a hokey buzz word. But as time goes on, I kind of love it and what it represents. During that particular excursion, I nervously attempted my hand (solo) at camping with my then five-year-old and almost eight-year-old. I hadn't camped since college, the boys had never camped at all, and I certainly had no idea how to pitch a tent by myself. PLUS, I was going to take a non-verbal child with sleeping issues camping by myself? I was pretty sure I'd lost my marbles. But as soon as I arrived at the camp site, the other parents immediately welcomed me. Two dads pitched my tent for me. A volunteer took Brooks off to meet the other children. My beautiful friend, Joell, (the director at Square Peg) engaged Miles as I tried to settle in. And that night as my eldest child screamed and wailed while I attempted to get him to sleep, the others outside the tent offered what help they could and respectfully gave me my space to do what I needed to do to settle in. No judgment. No annoyance over the racket we were making that was no doubt causing their autistic children some stress. We were in this together. For those three days, those families were my tribe. We were good to each other. We listened to each other. We offered input when appropriate. We filled plates for a hungry parent who couldn't fill their own because they needed to assist their child. We cried and hugged when talking about our challenges. We cried some more-this time with happy tears-as our special needs children caught their first waves while surfing with the loving support of the Indo Jax crew. We supported each other even when we were struggling with our own heavy shit. I haven't seen those families since, but I would bet that each of those parents have similarly fond memories of the bonds we formed during that short time of togetherness.  We were a tribe for sure.

It comes as a surprise to some people when I tell them that although I have so many wonderful and fulfilling friendships, I haven't always exactly known where I belonged.  Like, really belonged.  Maybe some of that has to do with how frequently we have moved and having to start over with the building of a new tribe each time? (And temporarily forgetting that the old tribes would still be with me wherever I went.) At times I can allow myself to go down the rabbit hole of worriment; feeling the old insecurities of my youth. But at 44 years young, I am finally awakening to the realization of who in my life I can count on no matter what. I have also learned the value of telling and showing those people how important they are to me; that they are my tribe mates and I am theirs. And you know what? Sometimes they tell me they also had the same insecurities I did and that they are relieved to know we feel the same about the importance of our friendship. We realize that we can reach out to one another without hesitation or worry that we are bugging the other because that is what true friends are able to do. So why don't we cultivate the important skill of being vulnerable in this way to children all through their adolescence? Kids innately know how to do this when they are very small. A kindergartener has no problem saying to another child 'I like you. I want to be your friend.' And then somewhere as we approach puberty we become afraid to show this part of ourselves for fear that the other person will reject us or belittle us for giving up so much truth. And then later we find ourselves moving through the murky waters of motherhood and marriage, growth and change, and we learn and we blossom until finally--HOPEFULLY--we realize once again that it is okay to ask someone to be your friend or to tell them you like them and you want to spend time with them.

During the time that I have not blogged I have worked on filling my cup with several visits with my tribe. My tribe from Half Moon Bay came for an amazing four days of wine, laughter and frank discussion. A few weeks later my tribe from high school came and we did more of the same. I can't speak for men obviously, but I know now for certain that my tribe of women friends are vital to my development as a human. I am most certainly responsible for myself at the end of each day, but it truly helps to know that they have my back if and when I need them. Go find your tribe. People need people! (Thank you, Barbra Streisand!)