Letter From The Mom Friend

More than ponytail holders and gum; an emotional backpack

By: Gracie Kibort

My own mother has always compared me to a sponge. She dubbed me as such due to how deeply and intensely I have always felt for the people around me, so much that I soak up their emotions and experiences as if they were my own. Feeling the joy and pain of my friends and family is rewarding yet relentlessly exhausting. I've felt the compulsive need to take care of my village; the people who make me radiate joy. I've done this for as long as I can remember, whether or not this means I am neglecting my own needs and wishes. I feel my emotions in extremes. I always have. My teenage years were supplemented with a close-knit friend group who loved intensely but fought just as fiercely. Regardless of whether or not I was the one causing a fight, I was obligated to pick up the pieces and haphazardly scotch tape the relationship back together again. Being a sponge and being the mom's friend are synonymous. It's composed of more than being the one with the backpack en tote filled to the brim with hand sanitizer and ponytail holders, and the one with the gargantuan hand-me-down SUV always driven to hungover brunches. It's more than being the one with the lipgloss and the snacks. It's the reward of watching my friends experience growth and character development. It's the love and care that I receive in return. Maybe I feel the need to take care of those around me because I deeply fear they aren't being taken care of, or it's my deepest and inevitable maternal qualities bearing their teeth before actuality. Being the mom friend and a sponge are intrinsically connected. It's emotionally exhausting, but I'll always give hugs and gum simultaneously. 

• The Mom Friend