Some of my best friends are the bossiest of bossy boots. While we have occasional hostilities because we’re hard-headed beings, there’s always a détente.

There were many times when our hard heads clashed, and I swore never to talk to them again.

Unfortunately, I’m a product of my dad’s all-or-nothing type of love. His love is conditional. When you dance to his tune, you’re the best; if not, you’re out in Siberia.

Although I lost a few friends along the way, when my chips were down last year, the thick-skinned ones who never gave up on me held me up in every way.

Never in my life did I think I would need and appreciate these bossy friends so much. They did all the things that usually annoyed me. The things I used to send long WhatsApp texts about.

But when my life imploded, none of that mattered. They held me tenderly, spoke to me softly and made sure I knew they were there for this messiest version of me.

I was catatonic with grief, and letting these annoyingly bossy chicks take over my life was the best thing that could ever happen to me.

On those days when I felt bad for refusing to eat or get out of bed, a friend said I didn’t have to apologise. She gave me permission to just be me. To worry about me. To put me first. To say yes to whatever my body or brain told me to do.

Growing up, I was taught that saying no to people was wrong and rude. But I had no issue with saying no to myself. I always put others before me.

When my world came tumbling down last year, and I had to rebuild myself, my bossy friends gave me the space to be vulnerable, to be severely wounded until I was ready to rebuild.

They took over my house, my admin, my logistics. All I had to was sit with myself and listen to what my body needed.

For the first time in decades, I felt like I had the motherly love I missed as a child and so sorely needed after my longstanding grief for her.

As I sat there doing nothing, while my life was being run for me, I knew I was going to have to step out of my comfort cocoon sometime.

I would need to face my life again. My friends could not split themselves between two households forever, even though their partners were supportive and held down the fort.

Looking back at that time of self-care and self-nurturing, I see how pivotal it was that I let my bossy friends take over my life.

I have learnt to embrace things outside my comfort cocoon. I have learnt how my brain works. I realise just how brave I have been.

As John Mayer sings, “keep moving even though your hands are shaking, and your faith is broken”.

I embraced my new normal with my heart wide open. I listened to my friends telling me to face the unknown bravely, knowing they would be with me every step of the way. I’ve learnt to welcome experiences that would have been daunting in my previous life.

Even in the face of my painful experiences, I have increased my capacity to say yes to new experiences. I’m enjoying this “yes me”.

Being a ridiculously indulged wife meant I could weaponise incompetence and be rescued by my partner most of the time.

Now that I’m forced to learn things and figure out how things work, I can feel the atrophied neurons in my brain slowly firing up again.

At my age, it’s more like trying to get your grandpa’s old Valiant to start up again, but my brain’s not dead, it’s just injured.

With every yes I say now, a whole new me is forming in some ways. I’m fairly new at this yes thing, but my life is slowly returning to normal, with a twist.