Just Breathe Confessionals

The Friendships That Shaped Me

• Just Breathe Confessionals • Season 1 • Episode 7

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Some friendships feel like air in your lungs; others knock the wind out of you. This story-driven episode dives into the friends who carried us through family fractures, the sudden goodbyes that rewired our trust, and the bold voices that pushed us toward better, braver selves. We open with childhood in a split home, where neighbors and friends’ parents became a quiet safety net—block parties, open kitchens, and the simple miracle of being welcomed without explanation. That foundation leads to a formative bond: a friend who noticed the weight we shouldn’t have been carrying and offered a way to breathe again.

The middle turns toward a sanctuary found in the church tech booth after a knee injury ended soccer dreams. There, under the glow of monitors and the hum of a soundboard, belonging took on a new shape—until a message ended a three-year friendship without warning. We unpack how friendship grief differs from breakups, why abrupt endings can rewrite how we let people in, and what it means to hold on to spaces that helped us heal while releasing the person who introduced them.

Finally, we meet the friend who brings loving friction—a fuchsia-bandana memory, relentless honesty about a toxic relationship, and accountability that stings before it saves. Together we explore how transformative friends reveal blind spots, set a higher bar for how we show up, and model what chosen family looks like over time. Along the way, we pose questions worth sitting with: Who carried you? Who taught the hard lesson? Who’s stayed?

We close with a peek at what’s next: a three-part Love Series—love that broke me, love that found me, and self-love—raw, real, and deeply personal. If you’ve ever leaned on chosen family, rebuilt after a sudden goodbye, or needed a friend who tells the truth, this is for you. Subscribe, share with someone who needs it today, and leave a review to tell us which friendship shaped you most.

SPEAKER_00:

Welcome back to Just Breathe Confessionals. I'm so glad you're here. I've been thinking a lot about everything I've talked about this season, all the moments that shaped who I was becoming. We've talked about crushes, we've talked about puberty, we've talked about first passions like soccer, the thing that lit me up long before relationships ever did. But we haven't talked about the people who were there through all of those things yet. The ones standing on the sidelines, cheering, crying, laughing right beside us. Friends. I don't know where I'd be without some of those friendships. I learned a lot of lessons along the way. Some sweet, some messy, some that cause pain and confusion, but all of them shaped who I became. Because friendships are something we all carry. They hold us, they hurt us, they shape us. For me, friendships weren't just connections. They were family. When my parents divorced, my world split in half. My dad became a single parent to three kids, doing the best he could with what he had. And I think, in his own way, he leaned on the people around us too. The parents of my friends, the neighbors who kept an eye out, the families who made sure we were okay. My friends' parents were incredible. They showed up. They welcomed me in. They made me feel safe. And so my friendships, they became my support system, my comfort zone, my stand-in family when mine felt broken. That's probably why I hold friendships so close even now. Because they were the thing that filled the empty spaces when I needed them most. Today I want to talk about the different kinds of friendships we move through in life. The ones that ground us, the ones that break us, and the ones that transform us. This one's for the people who became family, even when they didn't have to. Let's talk about the friends who carried us. One of my closest friends came into my life when we were both in elementary school. She had just switched schools here in Folsom after her family moved houses, and she hated our elementary school, always talking about how much better her old school was, and she let everyone know it. But for some reason, we clicked. I remember sleepovers at her house, the faint sound of her little brother practicing violin drifting from his room while we whispered about school and crushes. Summers were all about the neighborhood block parties, bounce houses, go-karts, music thumping from somebody's garage. Her parents were the kind of people who made everyone feel welcome. They hand you a plate of food before you even had a chance to sit down. They were part of that village my dad leaned on, part of that quiet safety net that helped raise me. And honestly, I think that's why our friendship felt so natural. She never asked me to be anyone other than myself. And what sticks with me isn't just the fun. It's the way she saw me. She knew when home life was messy. She knew I was caring more than most kids our age. And one day she simply said, You want to come to church with me? That moment, her offering me a way out of sadness I didn't even have words for is something I'll never forget. Supportive friends are the ones who hold you together when you feel like falling apart. And don't we all need a friend like that? Someone who just shows up, no questions asked, and somehow gets you without needing the whole backstory. That's who she was, and still is. Maybe that's the hardest part of growing up. Realizing not every friendship feels like that kind of safety. But when you find the one that does, you hold it close. Because it reminds you of that kind of softness that still exists in the world. But not every friendship stays soft. Some starts that way, gentle, grounding, and still ends up breaking your heart. The next one I want to talk about did exactly that. After my knee surgery ended my soccer days, I started volunteering at my church's summer camp. That's where I met the friend who would eventually break my heart. He was older, working in the tech booth. He showed me how to run the soundboard. The soft glow of the monitors, the hum of the machines, the smooth buttons underneath my fingertips. It felt like a secret world, and I loved it. After losing soccer, that space gave me something to hold on to. I'd go in early, stay late, just to learn, to feel useful, to feel like I belong somewhere again. For a while, that booth became my safe space. He was there through my toxic relationships, bad grades, through my anxiety, through my high school graduation. He taught me how to drive in the church parking lot. He showed up when it mattered. Until one day he didn't No warning just a message. We can't be friends anymore. Three years of showing up for each other gone. Without explanation. And when someone has seen all of you, the ugly cries, the anxiety, the mess, and they still decide to leave. It doesn't just sting. It rewrites something in you. That kind of heartbreak doesn't just fade. It changes how you let people in. It makes you question if anyone can really see all of you and stay. But moving on from that taught me something I didn't expect. Not all friendships are meant to last, even the ones that felt unshakable in the moment. Sometimes their purpose isn't forever. It's to remind you what love and loss can teach you about yourself. And honestly, when you grow up relying on friendships to fill the cracks your family couldn't, that kind of loss cuts deeper. Because it's not just a friend you're losing, it's a piece of the safety you built for yourself. Then there are the friends who challenge you. The ones who don't just love you, they push you to grow. The first time I saw her, she was stealing a fuchsia bandana from a boy's houseboat on a church house boat trip we both went on. And in that moment I thought, yep, I want to be friends with her. Ever since that day, she's been in my phone as fuchsia stealer. For me, that was the beginning of a friendship that changed me. We bonded over Spirit Days, Pretty Little Liars, The Vampire Diaries, and long car talks where nothing was off limits. She was the one friend who saw my toxic relationship in high school and never let me lie to her about it. She called out the bullshit and told me to dump him constantly. And even when I was crying my eyes out about him, she was still there for me. The one who called me out when I didn't show up the way I should have. And while it wasn't easy, it was real. Transformative friends remind you of your blind spots and hold you accountable in the ways that make you uncomfortable, but also make you better. She's still in my life now, and when I picture my future, she's always there. Not because it's easy, but because it's honest. I've definitely let her down as a friend, out of my own fear of being left behind, and I couldn't tell you or her exactly why. But I'm thankful every day that we found our way back to each other. We're both Gemini girlies, and somehow even our opposite personalities are friends with each other. She pushes me to be a better version of myself. And maybe that's what chosen family becomes as you get older. The people who don't just hold your hand when you're hurting, but also call you out when you start to hide from yourself. They don't replace the family you came from. They help you rebuild the one you deserve. And that's the thing about friendships. They take on so many forms across our lives. Some carry us, some shatter us, and some build us into who we're meant to be. Friendship isn't simple, it's messy, fragile, and life-giving. And when you look back, it's often those connections, the ones that carried you, broke you, or built you that shape who you become. People come into our lives for all kinds of reasons. Some walk with us for years, some for just a season, and some for only a single moment that we never forget. But each of them leaves a mark. The friend who offered you safety when the world felt overwhelming, the one who walked away and left you questioning everything, the one who pushed you to be braver, stronger, more honest. They all became part of your story. And if you're anything like me, maybe you don't realize how much those friendships mattered until years later, when you see how much they shaped the way you love, the way you trust, and the way you grow. So if you're listening right now, maybe take a moment to sit with that. Who carried you when you couldn't carry yourself? Who taught you the hard lesson you didn't want but needed? Who's still in your corner after all this time? Because at the end of the day, none of us get through this life alone. The people who walk with us, even for a little while, help us breathe, help us heal, and help us keep becoming who we're meant to be. Thanks for listening today. And before we wrap up, I want to give you a little peek at what's next. The next three episodes are something really close to my heart. A three-part series I'm calling the Love Series. We'll talk about the love that broke me, the love that taught me how to find me, and of course, self-love. It's raw, it's real, and it's some of the most honest storytelling I've ever shared. So if you ever loved deeply, lost painfully, or learned how to return to yourself, this next chapter is for you. See you in the love series. And as always, just breathe.