Mette and Candice, friends for more than thirty years, both found themselves divorced during the pandemic. They have very different perspectives on the challenge of finding themselves in the midst of an entirely new life.
When you know you shouldn't do too much, why do you keep doing it anyway? What are you winning? What are you avoiding?
What do you regret? How do you let go of regret? What regret is it useful to hold onto, if any?
Are you allowed to get what you want? That's the first step in getting it. Other thoughts on the same.
What is money for? How do you use money properly? How do you feel less guilty about money? How do you use money for happiness?
What if "because I want to?" is not a selfish thing to say, but actually the only reason any of us do anything?
People might change, but it doesn't seem to happen very often, or at least not on a character level.
Women and mothers are often invisible and we would like to stop being invisible now please.
Everyone says this, but how can you really learn how to not care about their business and believe it's really what you think about yourself that matters?
We take a little quiz to see how optimistic we are. We are both surprised (though you may not be).
We have both been through changes in our religious beliefs, but have also ended in very different places.
How do you feel about your changing physical appearance after age 50? Wrinkles, gray hair, sagging--um, other parts. We chat frankly about these issues.
How do yout rust yourself when you are the one who has always minimized and betrayed you?
Trying to figure out how to reconcile the different versions of ourselves, offering them all grace.
Mette and Candice talk about the pain of losing people as your life changes, and the choice to lose people, as well.
Depression is scary and lonely. It isn’t something I would wish on my worst enemy. But it is something that I’ve ended up helping dearest friends through. Sometimes I’m even grateful for my depression because it has allowed me to understand something I never understood before and to help articulate the thoughts that depression whispers to you.
In high school, one teacher who only ever saw us when we were together called us "Mettice," Candice and Mette. Here is our origin story, even though it took us a decade to remember the first time we truly met.
We all seem to enter into relationships with the idea that there are certain rules, but when other people don't follow the same rules, we're angry. And discover that they never had the same rules in the first place. How could they not?