I’ve realized that not every relationship is meant to hold deep love, consistent connection, or unwavering commitment. Some people give what they can, but it’s always only part of what’s needed. For years, I thought those limits reflected on me, that maybe if I just gave more, they’d respond differently. Now I understand more clearly: their capacity is their own. I don’t need to fight for something they aren’t able to give.

Naming this truth brings both loss and liberation. Loss, because I must mourn what will never be. Liberation, because I no longer waste myself fighting against the walls of someone else’s limitations. Instead, I can let certain relationships be light, simple, or superficial without confusing them for something more profound. Boundaries let me stay connected without losing myself, to be present without overexposing what is tender inside me.

But there’s another side to this story, the kind that reminds me what true devotion really feels like. I recall the first time I met her. She was wearing a jean skirt and flip-flops, carrying a quiet confidence that immediately drew me in. She tolerated my outward desire to please, even when it meant being a “room mom” by my side, and she’s the kind of woman who balances a big brain with little patience for ignorance. People can annoy her, but she knows exactly where to direct her energy. She can make a mean bean dip and Oreo cupcakes, and she still moves through life with a grit and grace that leave me speechless.

The mountains she’s climbed have given her a vantage point few ever reach … the peak and pinnacle of happiness. Along the way, she raised four incredible humans, teaching them essential skills and truths about navigating life, showing them that money can’t buy love. Watching how she moves through the world always impresses me. Quirks and all, her typical turkey sandwich and apple anything for dessert orders, and her Tito’s instead of wine when she’s with me, I still adore her — Danette is, without a doubt, my bestie, my ride or die.

That contrast is everything. Limited love teaches me not to expect more than some can give, but true loyalty shows me what’s possible when someone commits with their whole heart. One keeps me cautious; the other makes me brave. One reminds me to set boundaries; the other shows me that sometimes you can lean all the way in without falling.

I hold onto two truths: some relationships will always be partial, and that’s okay. Then there are the rare ones … the chaos curators, the besties, the ones who stay, who show up with a loyalty and devotion that are next-level. These are the relationships that prove I don’t have to settle for half-measures of love. I can respect what’s limited, but I can also indulge in what is limitless.

In that balance, I find peace. In my ride or die, my bestie, I found proof.