I went for coffee this morning with a group of friends. Ok, three friends. I don’t like enough people to have a ‘group’ I can drink coffee with.

Anyway, we were sitting there chatting about our weeks and it struck me – there is nothing much that can’t be fixed by having a good laugh with good people who get you, who won’t judge you.  The four of us this morning, we have different set ups, we have different numbers of children, different jobs, different lives, but we all ‘get’ each other. I don’t think I’d be far off the mark to say that we are all pretty similar in temperaments and attitudes towards things, mainly that life can bit a bit shit sometimes, but that is why we have friends. And prosecco.

We live in this warped society where life has to be perfect. From raising your children, to your marriage, dating, what your body looks like, everything has to be just so. I am all too guilty of letting small insignificant things infiltrate my mind, I can (shock) be sensitive. Maybe I am too sensitive, maybe I over think, maybe I’m messing things up in a grand sort of fashion. Or maybe, maybe we should all start being a bit more fucking honest about ‘grown up’ life can be sometimes.

The biggest life lesson I have been taught so far, mainly since 2012 – is that pretending to be happy is far far worse than being on your own, or admitting that things are shit sometimes. Do you know who got me through that? My friends. My real friends. I’m pretty sure there are some people who still wonder where #3’s bio donator went. Don’t worry – he’s not dead (at least I don’t think he is), but unless I want you to know my business, then you don’t. Simple. But there have been a fair few drunken nights and bitching morning coffee session to help me get over the last few years. I will take that over pretending things are amazing any day of the week.  The real people, they know. I don’t see some of them all the time, I don’t speak to my best friend every day. But I would rather have a night with her every so often where we brain dump all over each other than handfuls of friends who don’t ‘get’ me.

So far, as I approach 30 – with 3 children, a mortgage, and a mild case of sleep deprivation I keep wondering if it just me who think this isn’t all its cracked up to be? I’m just not buying the rest of Instagram’s crap that ‘life is so amazing all the time’. You’ll find me on the side of the fence where its ok to admit you’ve not sorted your washing in a month and you think your kids are wankers. It seems to me, that we are bringing our children up in this false sense of fake emotion and Valencia filter. I’m just not buying that, thanks. I don’t care what you think, I’m not apologizing, you’ll find me over there, with my other wild pals. I was never a cool kid anyway, and I’m far too heavy footed to dance around on politically correct parenting etiquette egg shells.

This morning, after an hour or so of drinking coffee, and slagging off our significant others (and ourselves), I went to work, feeling a whole lot better about my week. And things in general. A pressure I wasn’t even aware was there, had been lifted. I, and you, are not alone in this journey we call life.

My advice would be, find yourself some wild friends. Some real friends. The ones who you would trust with your children’s lives but subsequently drag out of hedges half naked and drunk at 3am on a Saturday night. They are the ones who will drag you through the darkest times, and who will celebrate the best times with you. And if you find yourself with empty chairs at coffee on a Friday morning? Come join us, there’s plenty of space over here.