At the risk of offending my blood relatives, all of whom I dearly love, this #thankyouthursday I am espousing the significance of my framily.
Honestly this picture has nothing to do with framily, aside from the fact that I was with a framily member when I saw this fricking adorable small teddy bear all alone on a subway bench and literally jumped out of my seat to go take a picture, and my framily member knows and loves me well enough to both (1) appreciate my enthusiasm for the photo op and (2) suggest I use the pic for #thankyouthursday.
Sometimes friends become more than friends
I moved to New York for the first time when I was twenty, and then permanently when I was twenty-two.
For a few years my sister lived here also. But for most of the decade-plus that I have been in Manhattan, my family has not.
So it makes sense that my friendships would become substantial.
My friends became my framily.
I know that framily is not actually a word
Framily is a feeling.
It is knowing that other humans have your back no matter what, and not just because biology compels them to.
Framily is relaxing into the inevitiblity of imperfection, of trusting that even when you make mistakes, you’ll be forgiven.
Framily is the relief of having people to hang out with when you can’t stop crying or when you don’t want to stop laughing.
Framily is the joy of co-creation, the satisfaction of chosen fidelity, the comfort of community.
When I think of my framily, I know I’m not alone
In a place like New York (and probably anywhere, honestly), it can be easy to feel isolated.
And if you don’t have a partner or a pet or a roommate, you could get tricked into thinking you’re alone.
I don’t live with anyone in my framily.
But because of them, I can always feel at home.
Love > fear,
