This morning I had one of those soul-stirring conversations with a good friend—the kind that stays with you all day. It wasn’t fluffy or sugar-coated. It wasn’t a simple, “You’re right, they’re wrong.” It was the kind of talk that only happens between people who have done some serious inner work, walked through fire, and come out stronger and softer on the other side.

She called me out. With kindness. With grace. With love. And I felt nothing but gratitude.

Because here’s the thing: at this stage of life—our 40s—we don’t need friends who simply enable us. We need friends who see us. Who know our patterns. Who love us enough to reflect the truth back to us, even when it stings a little. Friends who say, “Yes, that situation is hard. But let’s look at where you might be contributing to the cycle.” Not to shame us—but to help us grow.

When you’ve been through trauma, disappointment, loss, heartbreak… when you’ve gone to therapy, read the books, cried the tears, journaled your way into the truth… you become someone who can hold space for others with more depth. You stop just offering sympathy and start offering wisdom.

That’s what these friendships become in our 40s: mirrors and medicine.

We hold each other with compassion and accountability. We don’t just nod along to keep the peace—we speak up because we want peace within each other. We don’t gossip to vent—we get curious about our own triggers. We don’t abandon ourselves to please—we stay true and model what honesty looks like in love.

This kind of friendship is sacred.

It means you can go to your people with your pain, and instead of fanning the flames, they help you sit in the smoke and figure out where the fire started. And they don’t leave you there. They stay with you while you get clearer, stronger, more self-aware.

And I’ll be honest, not everyone will be this kind of friend. And that’s okay. But when you do find them—those rare gems who see you and challenge you—you hold onto them. You nurture those friendships like the precious lifelines they are.

So here’s to the friends in their 40s who have done the work.

The ones who won’t just tell you what you want to hear.

The ones who help you see your own blind spots, gently.

The ones who love you enough to say, “This might be your pattern… let’s talk about it.”

The ones who are real, raw, honest—and still, always kind.

Let’s be that friend.

Let’s keep doing the work.

Let’s stop confusing enabling with love—and start valuing truth as the highest form of care.

Because in our 40s, we’re not just trying to get through life.

We’re trying to grow through it.

Alisha x

This morning I had one of those soul-stirring conversations with a good friend—the kind that stays with you all day. It wasn’t fluffy or sugar-coated. It wasn’t a simple, “You’re right, they’re wrong.” It was the kind of talk that only happens between people who have done some serious inner work, walked through fire, and come out stronger and softer on the other side.

She called me out. With kindness. With grace. With love. And I felt nothing but gratitude.

Because here’s the thing: at this stage of life—our 40s—we don’t need friends who simply enable us. We need friends who see us. Who know our patterns. Who love us enough to reflect the truth back to us, even when it stings a little. Friends who say, “Yes, that situation is hard. But let’s look at where you might be contributing to the cycle.” Not to shame us—but to help us grow.

When you’ve been through trauma, disappointment, loss, heartbreak… when you’ve gone to therapy, read the books, cried the tears, journaled your way into the truth… you become someone who can hold space for others with more depth. You stop just offering sympathy and start offering wisdom.

That’s what these friendships become in our 40s: mirrors and medicine.

We hold each other with compassion and accountability. We don’t just nod along to keep the peace—we speak up because we want peace within each other. We don’t gossip to vent—we get curious about our own triggers. We don’t abandon ourselves to please—we stay true and model what honesty looks like in love.

This kind of friendship is sacred.

It means you can go to your people with your pain, and instead of fanning the flames, they help you sit in the smoke and figure out where the fire started. And they don’t leave you there. They stay with you while you get clearer, stronger, more self-aware.

And I’ll be honest, not everyone will be this kind of friend. And that’s okay. But when you do find them—those rare gems who see you and challenge you—you hold onto them. You nurture those friendships like the precious lifelines they are.

So here’s to the friends in their 40s who have done the work.

The ones who won’t just tell you what you want to hear.

The ones who help you see your own blind spots, gently.

The ones who love you enough to say, “This might be your pattern… let’s talk about it.”

The ones who are real, raw, honest—and still, always kind.

Let’s be that friend.

Let’s keep doing the work.

Let’s stop confusing enabling with love—and start valuing truth as the highest form of care.

Because in our 40s, we’re not just trying to get through life.

We’re trying to grow through it.

Alisha x