In Good Company.

It was a week.

A long, exhausting, and emotional week. You know the kind.

Luckily, it was saved by the precious and few friends I am lucky to know and have in my life. Without them… I shudder to wonder what state I would be in as I sit here at the keyboard now, sane and composed.

It all began last Sunday. After consuming two apparently deadly cocktails the night before, I spent most of the day in bed with a strange and pulsing headache.

Throughout the day, I received get well wishes from my friends and my mom brought me coffee to make me feel better.

Aren’t they the greatest?

Things escalated back up on Tuesday. I had a date planned, was supposed to meet someone for appetizers at Addie and… well, he didn’t show.

After pacing the restaurant and constantly checking my phone like a crazed madwoman, I finally accepted that I had been stood up. Stinging from hurt, angry at being played the fool, and embarrassed for having to sit by myself looking as fine as I did, I fell apart.

As I sat with my back facing the rest of the restaurant, I dramatically looked out the window as the tears slid down my cheeks, desperately hoping I would see a car pull up the drive and rescue me.

He didn’t rescue me, but my dear friend Braeden did. He pulled up chair and joined me for what turned out to be an altogether fabulous meal. And afterwards, he invited me over to watch an Alexander McQueen special (he knows me so well).

It was as we were sitting there that my friend Andrew (head chef of said kitchen that fed me so well) showed up with a bottle of prosecco. On the bottle, he wrote “Elan is a” Headsnapper, which was the brand of bubbles I now held in my hand.

I cried and embraced him, not believing that I had such thoughtful friends like this in my life, who could make a bad day so so good.

Which brings us to Wednesday, or specifically, early Wednesday morning. You know that meal I had? That fabulous meal? Well, it made me sick.

It appears that in an attempt to eat my feelings, I ended up eating too much, which resulted in an entire day spent in my bed, walking from bedroom to bathroom and living on Saltines and ginger beer.

I was visited thrice by friends and family, who dropped off care packages and checked in to see how I was feeling. And yeah, it was the bright spot in my dark day.

The next few days were spent in recovery, both physically and mentally. I went back to work full steam ahead, slowly trained in upping my appetite again (it will be awhile before I can have alcohol again), and before I knew it, it was Saturday.

My 25th birthday.    

Happy Birthday to me!   

And what a birthday it was.

I spent the majority of the day on a hike up to Harding Icefield with my friend Shelby and brother Anton. Put those legs to use and got 8 miles under the belt. What a view that was!

A few hours later, I turned around and threw a “Pink Party” at my house, complete with drinks, desserts, and of course, lots of pink.

As the night wore on, as the candle wicks burned low, as the coupe glasses emptied, and the darkness closed in around my cozy house, I let myself enjoy the evening.

I have the grandest friends, the most caring family. Throughout the week, I went through some things I would much prefer not to have to go through again (I swear if I ever get stood up in the future…) and what got me through them was the support system I often take for granted.

The cake I had was sweet, the drinks were most delightful, but the company that crowded around in my humble home was the best.

It was a birthday spent in good company, and I couldn’t have asked for a better gift than the “presents” of my friends..

(had to throw a pun in there)