The other day, I told my bestie I might quit healing and just go full on feral instead.

Her response? “I support you either way, my psycho little princess.”

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Truly, I just read that on TikTok… But honestly, if that is not soulmate behavior, I don’t know what is.

Because listen. We spend so much time talking about healing. Protecting our peace. Choosing softness. Setting boundaries. Drinking water. Taking the high road. Breathing through it. Counting to ten. Journaling. Reflecting. Releasing. Growing.

And that is all well and good.

But every now and then, a person gets tired.

Tired of being the bigger person.
Tired of being understanding.
Tired of giving grace to people who would not know grace if it walked up and smacked them with a Bible and a biscuit.

Sometimes you do not want to heal. Sometimes you want to put on black eyeliner, stare into the middle distance and become an unsupervised woodland creature with a phone and opinions.

Not because you are broken.
Not because you are unhinged.
Not even because you are mean.

Because you are exhausted. There is a difference.

And the older I get, the more I appreciate the rare and precious kind of friendship that does not immediately try to fix you when you say something mildly deranged. The kind that does not hit you with a motivational quote or suggest a gratitude journal. The kind that simply nods and says, in essence, “That is fair. You have been very patient. I will stand by while you either evolve or descend.”

That, my friends, is love.

Real friendship is not always found in the people who tell you to calm down. Sometimes it is found in the one who hands you a metaphorical tiara and says, “Go ahead, tiny menace. I believe in you.”

And maybe that is a form of healing too. Not the polished kind. Not the pretty kind. Not the Instagram quote over a sunset kind. But the real kind. The kind where somebody knows exactly how twisted your humor is, exactly how tired your soul gets, exactly how close you occasionally are to going full possum in a Dollar General parking lot, and instead of backing away slowly, they pull up a chair.

That is the friend who knows your heart. The one who knows you are not actually going to burn your life down. Probably. The one who understands that half of healing is processing your emotions… and the other half is being allowed to joke about becoming feral without somebody calling for a wellness check.

That is sacred.

We all need at least one person who understands that “I am trying to heal” and “I am two inconveniences away from becoming an outlaw” can exist in the very same body. Because healing is not linear. It is not graceful. It is not some constant upward climb where every day you wake up centered, serene and smelling faintly of lavender.

Some days, healing looks like prayer.
Some days, it looks like rest.
Some days, it looks like minding your business.

And some days, healing looks like texting your best friend that you are thinking of quitting the whole self-improvement program and returning to the swamp from which you spiritually emerged.

To be clear, I have long ago healed. I am just keeping feral as a backup plan to match the scars.

For emergencies.
For stupid people.
For tech issues.
For hold music.
For anyone who starts a sentence with, “No offense, but…”

So yes, when your best friend responds, “I support you either way, my psycho little princess,” that is soulmate behavior. Not because she encouraged chaos. But because she knew exactly what I meant.

She heard the exhaustion under the joke. The humor under the threat. The love under the madness. And she loved me right there in the middle of all of it.

That is the kind of friendship that deserves flowers, matching court dates and a standing ovation.

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Final Thought

Healing is beautiful. Growth is necessary. Peace is priceless.

But having one friend who will lovingly support your recovery or your descent into glamorous wilderness behavior?

That is luxury. That is sisterhood. That is, without question, soulmate behavior.

XOXO, Jani