The Friends Who See Us, Not Our Messes

National Best Friends Day got me thinking about friendship and what it means to truly feel accepted.

When my best friend introduces me to people, she often says something like: "This is Heather. We've been best friends since we were toddlers. She's one of the few people who's welcome to just show up at my house without calling first."

I always smile when she says it. Not because our homes are always tidy. Not because we have everything figured out. But because what she really means is that we don't judge each other.

Over the years, we've held space for one another through cluttered houses, health challenges, family dramas, and dreams that felt difficult to reach. We don't try to fix each other's lives and rarely offer advice. I've learned from her example that listening, asking questions, and being a safe sounding board are often more helpful than having the right answers.

One of my favorite friendship quotes comes from Helen Keller:

"Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light."

I've always loved that quote because it doesn't promise that friendship will make life's difficulties disappear. It simply suggests that some journeys are easier when we don't walk them alone.

A few years ago, my friend introduced me to the concept of body doubling.

At its simplest, a body double is someone who shares a space with you while you tackle a difficult task. They aren't there to supervise, advise, or judge. They may be working on something entirely different. Their presence simply makes the task feel a little less overwhelming.

I've come to think that many friendships work this way. Not because our friends solve our problems. But because some things are easier when someone else is in the room.

One day, my friend called and asked me to be her body double while she sorted through her closet.  Like many women our age, she had accumulated decades of clothing. Some pieces belonged to jobs she no longer had. Some fit bodies she no longer inhabited. Some represented versions of herself she wasn't quite ready to let go of.

As she held up dresses and jackets with a questioning look, I realized we weren't really talking about clothes. We were talking about identity. Who she had been. Who she was becoming. What parts of her life were over. What possibilities still remained.

"Should I keep this?"

On the surface, it was a question about a jacket. Underneath, it was a question about an entire chapter of life. Am I really never going to work in an office again? Am I keeping this because I love it, or because I'm holding onto who I used to be? Am I ready to let this go?  Having a supportive person in the room didn't answer those questions for her. It simply made it easier for her to answer them herself.

The older I get, the more I realize how many of life's biggest decisions arrive disguised as ordinary moments. A closet to sort. A house to move from. A career that changes. A body that changes. A role that changes. A life that no longer looks the way we expected. Through all of those changes, there is something profoundly comforting about a friend who doesn't expect us to stay the same. Someone who sees us as we are today, accepts us without judgment, and walks beside us while we figure out what comes next.

I see this same version of friendship in my daughter's group of friends. Many of them are raising children of similar ages. They pick the kids up together after school, let them play, and often gather for dinner at one another's homes. From the outside, it looks simple. Children running through backyards. Parents chatting in kitchens. Meals shared around crowded tables. But beneath it is something else. A kind of quiet community.

When one friend's partner had to leave unexpectedly, the others stepped in. They helped with the children. They helped with work. They helped carry the week. Not in dramatic ways. Just in the ordinary ways that matter.

As National Best Friends Day approaches, I'm finding myself grateful for the people who have seen me through life's messy seasons. The people who looked past the clutter. The unfinished projects. The difficult chapters. And saw me anyway. Their example reminds me that maybe we can offer ourselves a little of that same grace, too.

Maybe that's what friendship is.

Not fixing. 

Not judging. 

Just showing up. 

Seeing each other. 

And staying.

Maybe that's one of the most important lessons we can share with the children in our lives, too.

To help celebrate friendship, kindness, and encouragement, I recently created the Wonderful Friends Coloring Pages—a free printable collection designed to help children explore what it means to be a good friend.

Whether you're a parent, grandparent, teacher, counselor, or caregiver, I hope they spark conversations about inclusion, kindness, and supporting one another through both the easy days and the difficult ones.

Because everyone deserves a friend who says:

"I see you."

And means it.

with love,

Heather
Founder, Ploppals