As 2015 nears the finishing line, I feel it necessary- nay, incumbent– to write a sort of farewell to the year. Well, not really to the year, but to everything I’m going to be leaving behind in it.
That ‘everything’ includes people. Or rather, my relationships with certain people, since the people themselves will too be moving forward to a clean slate and a new year.
I think for as long as I can remember I’ve had this absolute fixation with friendships and an obsession with keeping all relationships that I am in, alive and well.
Through my life, this has led me to hold onto a lot of relationships that were not necessarily working out for me- in fact, they were downright bad.
And it’s so tough to admit it. I’ve gotten close to a lot of people in my short 22 years (well, almost 22).
And even when we drifted, I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge that we just no longer had anything in common, or we wanted different things, or we were just going down two completely different paths.
The root of this unwillingness to let go probably has something to do with my love for people generally. And my love for love.
I think I had prescribed a subconscious personal law; that once I get involved with someone, I have to know them forever.
I have to keep them forever. This makes me sound like I hoard people. And maybe I do.
And this is just so indicative of my detachment from reality.
That reality is that people come and go.
The cycle ends with death.
That is all.
There will always be someone leaving your life, and there will always be someone arriving.
I think this is particularly scary for me, because of how much I tend to give in my relationships- how much I ‘invest’.
‘Invest’ is a bad word when it comes to people, but it’s also the right word for what I do. I go into relationships, believing in the ‘return’.
Even though most friendships don’t start out as a formal agreement for mutual benefit, that is technically what it is, is it not?
A promise of growth.
There is this unspoken understanding that each party is going to put something in, while getting something out.
And maybe it’s selfish, because what it actually comes down to is: you.
Your relationships with other people are mostly about… well…you.
And from their side, it’s about them.
Which is why it sucks so bad when you’re at- for example- Joanna’s beck and call with Kleenex and some frozen Yoghurt when she breaks up with Brad; but she’s MIA when shit hits the fan on your side.
This is then seen as the violation of that subconscious, unspoken friendship contract.
If we are friends, know that I would take a bullet for you (I say this confidently, but don’t test me)
If we are friends know that seeing you at your worst will not diminish my love for you.
If we are friends, know that we can share everything and it will always be safe with me, even after- God forbid- the relationship dissolves.
This post is about when the relationship dissolves.
Maybe this is more of an open letter to myself, than it is insight that I want to share with others.
I need to say these things. I need to hear them.
When a friendship/relationship comes to an end, the world doesn’t.
It’s important to remember that.
Not that I’m old or anything, but I really thought that since I had myself figured out ( lol I don’t) it had to mean that I had everyone else around me figured out too. And therefore; all the relationships I was in were going to see me to my old age. I’d be sitting on my porch swing, with about 20 besties surrounding me like some kind of choir, and we’d all be reminiscing the ‘good ole days’.
Maybe I will have one person next to me. Or maybe I’ll sit on that porch swing alone.
This post is about potentially sitting on that porch swing alone.
This post is about how potentially sitting on that porch swing alone, will be meaningless. As meaningless as the companionship of the 20 Besties Choir.
There is nothing wrong with being alone. Solitude is sweet. And maybe my quest for friends and loves and sisterhoods, was really just about my fear of being alone.
Maybe it was subconsciously about seeking myself.
And I am not saying that I am found, but I am finding pieces of me. As each relationship ends and each new one begins, a new tile is flipped over and I get to stare into myself. I get to know myself a bit better. And I get now that my projection of this need to love everyone, was partially about escaping that.
If our relationship dissolves, it doesn’t mean that we are bad people. We just might not be good for each other. Or maybe we are just lazy and negligent and preoccupied, and never hear from each other again.
Or maybe we’re just constantly making plans to make plans, because neither of us are honest enough to admit that we’re not as keen as we used to be. That ultimately our commitments are to ourselves and to new people. People who fit us better, people we fit better.
Why is it such a taboo to admit to each other that we no longer fit?
That our spheres don’t touch.
And that that distance between us… is actually okay.
It’s better than okay. Maybe we even like it.
Maybe we need to tell each other the truth; that sometimes the closer we get to some people, the further we get from ourselves. This is bad for any soul. And I don’t want to run from me anymore.
I don’t need to.
If our relationship dissolves, it is not the negation of our memories or our laughs or that time we stayed up late planning a future that didn’t happen.
So that future didn’t happen, but there is one that does.
If our relationship dissolves, it doesn’t disappear you. I am not asking the past to magically recreate itself into a version that doesn’t include you.
I am not asking you to leave my past. I can’t. You… can’t.
I am simply saying that maybe our relationship needs to stay there. I am asking that we no longer carry it forward into the years ahead, like some torch through which everything else is poorly lit and morbidly shadowed. We don’t need that weight.
If our relationship dissolves, that doesn’t mean that I will I hide away from you in years to come if I see you in the market with your family.
It doesn’t mean that I don’t wish you well, or that your name is bitter on my tongue.
It doesn’t even mean that we will never ever be friends again.
It just means that it’s okay if we aren’t.
This post is about it being okay.
This post is about what happened between us being okay.
This post is about neither of us being wrong.
This post is a release, not an eviction. Even though we were facing each other, we were leaving each other anyways. And it feels so much better to just let go. And I will be honest: I didn’t know how at first.
This is how for me. This is how I let go; I write to you. I write to me.
This post is not about cutting ties, it’s about cutting nooses. Only kites fly when tied down at the neck.
We are not kites, you and I.
I don’t want to be a glorified choker, a rusty bear trap.
We will always fly prettier without ribbons and anchors and strings…and chains.
This post is about wanting to fly. Solo.
Through the course of life, we might become different people- we might become ourselves, and meet and start anew.
But for now-for today– I want to say goodbye.
I need to say goodbye.
It wants to come out of my mouth and be understood, by you and by me.
I don’t want to say that I’m burning bridges.
I want to say that I am moving them.