The Fourth Friend

I was in the car with two of my favorite people — my business besties, the women I meet with weekly to hold ourselves accountable as entrepreneurs trying to change the world.

We each run our own businesses. We don’t work together, exactly — but we work with each other. We plan. We dream. We problem-solve. We celebrate wins and name the hard things. We have work parties. We go on retreats. We pull cards. We analyze the meaning of signs from the universe.

We remind each other why we started when the middle gets messy.

And on this particular day, we were driving home from a retreat. My cup was full. My brain was buzzing in that delicious post-retreat way.

And then it hit me.

I was late.

I am always late so this isn’t really new. My ADHD brain convinces me that I have plenty of time until about 5 minutes before I am supposed to arrive somewhere. Then it’s chaos. This isn’t new. But this time…

Late enough that bedtime at home might already be underway. Late enough that I might miss kisses and stories and that soft, liminal moment when the house exhales for the night.

And instantly, that familiar voice showed up.

You should have planned better.
You’re gone too much.
You’re choosing work over your kids.

You know the one.

The voice that tightens the chest. The voice that doesn’t care how nourishing the retreat was or how meaningful the work is. The voice that measures our worth by punctuality and self-sacrifice.

As I shared this and my amazing friends reassured me, I could tell that they felt a little bad too. In the moment it was almost a non-issue. The conversation moved on knowing there was nothing we could do but hope my two older babies stayed awake.

But as I was talking about this with Sarah Malin on a podcast episode about returning to work, it hit me that I needed another voice in the car. And in the middle of the conversation I called it “the fourth friend,” so I wanted to take some time to flesh out this idea.

Who Is The Fourth Friend?

A feminine voice.

A voice with power and ease.

A voice that would place a hand on my shoulder and say:

Of course you’re late.
You were doing something that feeds you.
Your kids are loved.
You are allowed to be full and human and imperfect.

This fourth friend isn’t rushed. She isn’t sharp. She isn’t interested in punishment.

She is soft — but not small.

She knows that devotion to our families doesn’t require self-abandonment. She knows that meaningful work and meaningful parenting don’t cancel each other out. She trusts that love stretches.

Why We All Need Her

So many of us move through our days with a committee of voices in our heads — the inner critic, the taskmaster, the productivity police.

But very few of us have cultivated this one.

The friend who reminds us to slow down.
The one who widens the lens.
The one who speaks in compassion instead of urgency.

The one who would speak to us how we would speak to our very dearest friend when she is trying to be down on herself.

The one who says:

You are not behind.
You are not failing.
You are allowed to be soft with yourself.

After revisiting that day in the car, I realized that this fourth friend is a practice.

She doesn’t always show up automatically. Sometimes we have to invite her in.

But when we do?

Everything changes.

[Photo by Alonya E. Lowe, Alonya Photography]

An Invitation

If this resonates, I talk more about this moment — and how that realization landed in my body — on the podcast.

🎧 Listen to the episode to hear how I came to understand the power of the fourth friend… and how my mind was blown by the root of the word “balance.”

And maybe today, wherever you’re headed, imagine her climbing into the car beside you.

Let her remind you:

You’re doing better than you think.

Love, Emily