Pamela: My Forever Safe Place

Pamela has been a massive part of my life. Since that first day at school at the age of four, she has been my steady rock. We have played, laughed, wondered, conspired and cried together. She was with me through the bullying in primary school; we have shared heartbreaks through high school, the crazy alcohol-fuelled clubbing years, weddings, births, and even grief together. All of my memories include her bouncy blonde-haired presence. As children, we fell out often, and as teens, many petty jealousies caused rifts. But we always came back stronger. There is nothing I would not do for this amazing woman.

We have so many memories through the years: fighting in the mud outside school in primary, both crushing on the same boys as teenagers, huddling together in a McDonald’s toilet while she took a positive pregnancy test at the age of 19, being bridesmaids for each other, toddler groups, and girls’ nights out. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly times, I feel so very lucky to have this friendship. I often wonder what I ever did to deserve it.

We are very different in many ways. She has always been cute and blonde compared to my awkward brown messiness. She was popular while I was bullied. She was clever when I was told I was a lost cause. All the boys were attracted to her while I was desperate to be seen. She would be more sensible where I was compulsive. But these differences didn’t matter. Growing up, her home was my favourite place to be. I spent as much time there as possible, talking myself into sleepovers with midnight feasts and inviting myself along to family gatherings. I’m sure her family despaired. In the early years, her older sister and I did not get along. I was so jealous that she got to be with Pamela more than me, and we argued often. I was her little sister’s annoying friend. Pam was even banned one summer by her parents from seeing me. But it was pointless. As soon as we saw each other again, we were thick as thieves. Her family had no option but to accept it. As we got older, we were regulars in each other’s homes.

It’s only latterly, as I reflect and become curious about my own history, that I see she was my safe place. It’s her constant connection that helped me get through. I always had someone to go to, someone who would listen and understand. I do wonder sometimes how that must have been for her. Some of the things she witnessed and heard me talk about can’t have been easy. She was just a kid herself. I only hope that I was at times able to offer that same support to her.

We have never run out of things to say or talk about. In school, we weren’t allowed to sit together, separated every year for talking too much. We would take an age to walk home from school every day, always chatting and getting up to mischief. I would go to Pam’s house for crisps and sweets, grudgingly heading home only to pick up the phone and call her when I got there to talk and giggle some more. Many people would wonder what we could possibly still have to say.

The daily bullying could be relentless, and the things the bullies called me and said about me were impossible not to believe. The signals were clear, especially when no adults stepped in to stop it, and even sometimes confirmed it themselves. I wasn’t good enough. I deserved it. Something about me was substandard. But Pamela didn’t see me this way. She didn’t distance herself in case my unpopularity affected her. She stood unwaveringly by my side. She accepted me—my true, authentic, loud, annoying, excitable self. The more time I spent with her, the more it drowned out the bullies. I had to assume this drove them crazy because I wouldn’t cow down to them. I wouldn’t be quiet and timid. I didn’t fight back; I accepted it. But somehow, it didn’t break me. As long as I had this friendship, I could bounce back every time.

So when many years later, while learning about the power of connection, it made complete sense. I had experienced this. We can recover from a harsh and painful world if we have that one safe place to keep returning to.

As I get older I realise that not everyone is so lucky. I am acutely aware of just how rare and precious this kind of friendship is. Pamela has been more than a friend; she’s been my anchor, my confidante, and my second family. Through every twist and turn of life, she’s been there, holding space for me, offering kindness and understanding when I needed it most.

As we’ve grown older, our lives have become busier. Careers, partners, and families demand so much of our time, but we always find our way back to each other. Even if weeks or months pass, we can pick up right where we left off, as if no time has gone by at all. That’s the beauty of a friendship like ours—it’s timeless and unwavering. I always have a better week if Iv seen her or spent time with her

I hope we still have many adventures ahead of us. There will be more milestones, more tears, more laughter, and more memories to cherish. Pamela will always be part of my story, just as I hope I’ll always be part of hers.

To Pamela: thank you for being you. For standing by me, for accepting me exactly as I am, and for showing me the power of connection and love. You are my forever friend, my safe place, and my greatest blessing.

Here’s to many more years of laughter, love, and mischief.❤️