Sisterhood

Maine, September 2023

Hanging in sister space is serotonin-inducing

I call many people ‘sister,’ though I actually have 3 fabulous, biological, grew-up-in-the-same household sisters. We’ve had a tradition of convening each fall for a sisters’ weekend in Downeast Maine, which got derailed by COVID and which we’ve just revived. I’ve spent the last 3 ½ days in the company of my sisters and am feeling a surge of serotonin that will fuel me through the coming eventful weeks.

What happened at sisters’ weekend stays at sisters’ weekend, though I can divulge that it included sharing stories, solving the world’s problems (you’re welcome), reminiscing, reveling in nature, repudiating our devices, relaxing, wandering, wondering, time together, time on our own, shucking oysters (my wrist is still recovering) which we enjoyed around an evening firepit, and the best flourless chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten. Hurricane Lee downgraded to a wimpy windstorm, leaving us to enjoy mostly blue skies, unseasonably warm temps and glorious sunsets.

The four of us live in different time zones, are in various stages of menopause, are on the other side of divorces and other life-altering events, and are juggling the joys and challenges of busy professional lives, full personal lives, an elderly mother and other aging in-laws with unpredictable needs. Carving out time to get together like this, at a time that suits all of us, is no small feat. We do it year after year (with the glitch of COVID) because it feels so … necessary. My heart, soul and lungs expand after these weekends.

We also have two terrific brothers, and each of us has a supportive husband/partner, whose company we enjoy very much, though we don’t invite them to our sisters’ weekend because, well, they’re not ‘sisters.’ And while the conversations would still be rich, varied, stimulating and hilarious, they would simply be -- different. As would the activities. We have other opportunities to get together with everyone. Sisters’ weekend is sacred.

The camaraderie of sisterhood is different from the camaraderie of siblinghood. As siblings, we might all grow up in the same house, with the same parents, but sisters and brothers have very different experiences shaped by gender: the expectations of parents, communities and culture; the realities of biology. Even empathetic brothers can’t put themselves fully in our shoes.

I realize that not everyone has sisters, or sisters whose company they enjoy the way I do, or who make you feel supported the way mine do, or around whom you can be your real self, the way I can be. That’s where non-biological sisters come in. You needn’t share DNA to feel connected to, and supported by, fellow females. In that sense I have a surplus of sisters!

That’s one of the main reasons I started Sidecar Counsel. Because I believe so strongly in the power of sisterhood.

And guess what? You can join a sisters’ weekend of sorts, aka Sidecar Summit Portugal, which still has 5 spaces left. Like my recent sisters’ weekend it will include sharing stories, solving problems, reveling in nature, repudiating our devices, relaxing, wandering, wondering, time together, time on our own. (Can’t promise oysters or flourless chocolate cake, though I hear the food at the summit venue is fantastic.) It will involve taking space to explore new possibilities for our individual and collective leadership. Above all, it will allow us to forge sisterly bonds, which are key serotonin releasers, not to mention problem-solving stimulants. Registration remains open until October 15, or until all spots are claimed.

If you can’t join us, nudge a sister who might. You can then bask in second-hand sisterhood.

Yours in sisterly love,

Bridget