I just want to laugh until my face hurts.
“Who is Laura?” I whisper to myself as I slowly pull away from the Dunkin drivethrough. My hot coffee is sitting next to me. I can’t wait to take that first sip and let all my senses come to the party.
I cried like seven times the day prior. Something…that long ago used to be a daily practice and now…in this phase of life doesn’t seem to happen all that often. I’m certainly not pushing it away, it just seems to surface much less than it used to – and when it does…it’s often associated with reflecting on my kids, how far I’ve come, and positive tears.
My mind flashed through my week, like I’m watching a reel on Facebook. The conversations, the people, my previous relationships, flashes no longer than a split second and then a long pause on me. As the music (in my head) starts speeding through the other images. Intimate moments, smiles.
I stop at the stop sign for a good pause S. T. O. P. and say audibly “I’m building something”.
For years while I was married, I attended a yoga class every Wednesday night.
Each week I rolled out my mat and set my intention:
To love myself a little bit more.
At the time, I thought self-love meant learning to like the person I saw in the mirror, not just on the surface..but what she added to the room.
I had no idea it would eventually ask me to set boundaries, let go of relationships that no longer fit, stop chasing validation, and begin believing that I belonged without having to earn my place.
Looking back, that simple intention has quietly shaped so much of who I’m becoming. I think about it all the time, taking myself back to (I’ll be honest) a much simpler time.
And a few weeks ago, during a girls’ weekend in Cape May, I realized it still had something to teach me.
Maybe I’ve been looking in the wrong place.
The weather was beautiful. We wandered through little shops, laughed over dinner, sat on the beach, shared stories, and made memories I’ll genuinely cherish.
It was one of those weekends that looked exactly the way summer is supposed to look.
And yet…
There were moments when I found myself quietly wondering where I fit.
Have you ever experienced that? I’ve been doing it my whole life.
You’re surrounded by kind people. No one is excluding you. Everyone is welcoming.
But internally, there’s this tiny voice asking, Do I belong here?
I caught myself watching the conversations unfold. Everyone seemed to have history together. Inside jokes. Shared experiences. Stories that had been building long before I arrived.
Meanwhile, my brain WASN’T doing what it’s done for years – Am I talking too much? Should I have said that? Was that awkward? Maybe I should just listen. Am I being too quiet?
It’s exhausting how quickly our minds can create stories that nobody else is telling and the interesting part was that, usually that’s where I’m stuck…but I wasn’t.
Years ago, I would have believed every one of them.
Today, I can recognize them for what they are—old patterns trying to convince me that I have to earn my place. I think those stories started long before adulthood.
Somewhere along the way, I learned that belonging had to be earned. That if people chose me, then I was enough. If I was included, then I mattered. If I was liked, then I was lovable.
It’s amazing how those beliefs quietly follow us into adulthood.
They show up at dinners, networking events, family gatherings, friendships – even (especially) when nothing is actually wrong.
The difference now is that I’m learning I don’t have to hand those thoughts the microphone.
I can hear them…
And choose not to believe them.
The ride home was more quiet, (a few late nights helped) andI started thinking about something else.
For years I’ve said I wanted to find my person.
My best friend.
My adventure buddy.
The one I’d laugh with until my face hurt.
The person who would feel like home.
But somewhere during that weekend, a different thought crossed my mind – what if I’ve been asking one person to fill a role that was never meant for one person?
What if my future partner isn’t supposed to be my everything? Maybe my hiking buddy is one person. Maybe my business friends are another. Maybe my Sunday morning coffee friend is someone else.
Maybe my biggest cheerleaders are the women who continue to show up beside me.
Maybe what I’ve actually been craving isn’t one perfect relationship, but a tribe.
A circle of women who celebrate each other’s wins instead of competing. Women who ask how you’re really doing—and actually wait for the answer. Women who tell you the truth with kindness. Women who text, “Want to go?” before either of us has time to overthink it. Women who laugh so hard that everyone around them starts laughing too. Women who make you feel safe enough to be exactly who you are.
The more I sat with that thought, the lighter I felt.
Because maybe I’ve been measuring my life by whether I’ve found romantic love… When all along, I’ve slowly been building something just as meaningful.
Real friendships.
Deeper conversations.
People who genuinely want to see me succeed.
Maybe healing isn’t just about finding the love of your life. Maybe it’s creating a life that’s already overflowing with meaningful relationships. A life where a partner becomes a beautiful addition—not the missing piece. I still hope I find my person someday.
I still hope there’s someone out there who loves spontaneous road trips, long hikes, deep conversations, and laughing until our stomachs hurt.
But somewhere between the beach walks, the conversations, and yes…all the overthinking…
I realized something.
I’ve already started finding my people. Often throughout the week, after a client, or when I’m driving I cannot believe how many amazing women have come into my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been surrounded by so much love.
And maybe…
Maybe that’s where the real adventure begins.
XO,
Laura
P.S. If you’ve been following along for a while and feel called to support the work I do here, you can send a little love via Venmo: @lferri28. Writing is free, coffee isn’t, and neither are teenagers.
