A few weeks ago I wrote about breakups -- not of romantic relationships, but with friends. There aren't has many conversations about friendship breakups -- sure, we discuss peer pressure when we're younger and sisterhood as we get older, but what do you do when you feel like there is a friendship in your life that no longer serves you? In my first post I discussed what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a friendship breakup. Today's post addresses the other side. This is the side of being the initiator -- the side that I believe takes a lot of courage but doesn’t win popularity contests. The side that says, “YES! I am committed to evolving into the greatest of myself” and the side that is willing to engage in the house cleaning necessary to this evolution.

Yes, this is also the side where outsiders may label you as cold, coldhearted, selfish, a bad friend, a wayward friend, self-centered, “she’s changed because of such and such”, or whatever else they can come up with to comfort the friend that was left.

Confessions of a breakup

I advocate what I call friendship breakup. I do. I believe it’s a necessary part of an evolving life. Have I broken up with friends? Yep. Have I been broken up with? Yep.

This week, I’ve been busy with the California leg of my book tour. I spoke to a rowdy, vagina-friendly audience of 400 students at Sonoma State University, then 150 hooting, cheering, go-for-it girlfriends at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. So when I showed up Thursday night at the small, private University of Redlands (population 2400), I found myself feeling disappointed that there were only 63 quiet, shy, mostly silent students there.

Oh how I love sharing the Owning Pink stage with our devoted community members. Pauline Campos is one of our newer community members. However, it took her no time to jump right in and share the things that light up her world, with us. Enjoy the read, Pinkies! - Megan Monique

I woke up at 6:30 and was still rushing to get out of the front door by 8:30. We had a 15 minute drive ahead of us to make the bus for the pumpkin patch, our lunches were packed, and Buttercup was sitting pretty on the couch watching TV while I rushed into the bathroom to pull my mexi-fro into a pony tail. I glanced at the clock as I walked by. It was 8:15am. We were going to cut it close, but we would make it.

I had just put my head in the sink for a quick wet down when I heard Buttercup call me from the living room.