In my 20s I Chose Independence. In my 40, I Choose My Women | PeonyMagazine

 

When I was younger, I thought needing friends made you weak.

In my early twenties, I survived on independence, or at least that’s what I told myself. I was the type who handled things alone, brushed off hurt alone, healed alone. I didn’t think I needed a “tribe.” I was fine moving through life quietly, keeping my world small, guarded, and manageable.

Somewhere along the way, life placed a handful of women in front of me who felt like a soft landing. I didn’t go looking for them. They just arrived.

I was around 28 when we found each other, or maybe when we finally allowed ourselves to be found. Back then, our idea of bonding was drinking until our worries dissolved into laughter and someone cried about a breakup at 2 a.m. We were messy in the most honest way. We carried each other through heartbreaks, wrong decisions, life turning points, and those early years when we didn’t know who we were yet.

We talked over each other without caring who finished the story. Someone always laughed too loud, someone always cried too suddenly, and someone always swore they were “never drinking again” while reaching for another shot. Our bags were filled with lip tints, loose change, and secrets we promised not to repeat.

But time, as it always does, shifted everything.

One by one, they started building families. Suddenly babies were added to our group chat, to our calendar invites, to our plans. Our meet-ups turned from bar tables to birthday parties. The photos in our phones changed too, fewer selfies, more toddlers with icing on their cheeks and moms who forgot to retouch their lipstick but didn’t care.

We stopped talking about breakups and started talking about bills, babies, and burnout. Our group chat shifted from late-night gossip to photos of kids, quick check-ins, and “Girls, I miss you”. When we finally met, it wasn’t in bars anymore, it was in someone’s house, toys everywhere, kids running around, and half-finished stories because motherhood kept interrupting. Quieter, yes. But somehow, the softness made everything feel more real.

Sometimes months pass before we walk. Sometimes a whole year goes by before we finally see each other again. But when we do, it’s like nothing has changed, laughter flows, stories spill out, and for a few hours, we remember who we were before life got loud and complicated.

And yet.. Now that I’m older, I feel that longing again. A deeper one, because the challenges now run beneath the surface: real stress, real responsibilities, real heartaches that aren’t easy to share. A quieter one, because I don’t need noise or constant company anymore. I just want a presence that understands me without explanations, someone who makes the heaviness feel a little lighter.

It’s strange, I never needed a girl squad in my twenties. I told myself I was okay alone. But now, in my late thirties and nearing forty. I find myself craving something I once thought I didn’t deserve: a circle of women who get it. Women who understand the weight of life, the exhaustion, the dreams you’re still carrying, the wounded you’re still learning to forgive.

Maybe it’s because life gets heavier as we age. Maybe it’s because responsibilities grow, hearts bruise differently, and silence becomes both comforting and isolating. Maybe it’s because, after everything I’ve survived, heartbreak, disappointment, grief, rebuilding, I finally understand what real companionship feels like.

And once you’ve tested that kind of safe friendship, you cant pretend you don’t need it.

Sometimes, I miss the version of us that stayed up until sunrise. But I also love this quieter version, the one that checks in with, “Are you eating? Are you doing okay? Do you need a break from life? The version that shows up with kids in tow, hair unbrushed, hearts open.

It makes me wonder if maybe craving a girl squad at this age isn’t a sign of weakness, but a sign of maturity. A sign that I no longer equate needing people with failing. A sign that I’ve grown into someone who understands the importance of soft spaces and shared stories.

One realization is: We don’t outgrow friendship, We grow into it. We grow into choosing women who lift it instead of compete with us. Women who hold our truths without judgement, the kind you can confess your fears to, your mistakes, your messy parts, and you know they won’t look at you differently. They just listen, soften, and stay. Women who don’t need daily messages to know they’re loved, friendships that survive silence, long gaps, and busy seasons, because the bond was never built on constant updates but on something steadier, quieter, and real.

Women who understand that distance doesn’t erase connection, because life may pull us in different directions, but the thread between us doesn’t break. It stretches, it adapts, it waits… and when we finally meet again, it feels like no time has passed at all. My younger self thought she didn’t need friends. But this older version of me, the one who has been reshaped by life, softened by storms, humbled by pain, and healed by small pockets of love, knows better.

I need my women. Even If I don’t see them often. Even if life pulls us in different directions. Even if we only gather once a year with babies running around our feet and unfinished conversations hanging in the air.

Because sisterhood is about presence. It’s about knowing that no matter how much time passes, you always have a place to return to, you always have a voice that will be heard. You always have a home in the hearts of the women who saw you through every version of yourself.

More: https://peonymagazine.com/culture-trends/women-friendship-in-your-40s/