About Goodbye
Leaving a part of me behind so a new one could grow.
I think that goodbyes get harder as you grow older.
It may be that time passes and you start to fully grasp on what it means to let go, whether it’s of something or someone.
Sometimes I think that I’ve finally learned to say goodbye, but certain situations or feelings show me that I haven’t. On the contrary, I’m as far as I could be.
When I know that a goodbye is coming up, my anxiety just kicks in and everything around me turns gray, as if a big cloud -meant only for me- is hovering over my head. I find it difficult to sleep at night and my body starts to complain in its own way: pain on my ankles, skin rashes, unbearable headaches and insistent stomaches.
It’s like I can’t bring myself to face farewells.
Saying goodbye is leaving a part of me behind and knowing that it will never come back.
Even if it’s temporary.
I always try to keep mementos to avoid letting go completely, because what I fear the most is forgetting: a feeling, a place, someone, an idea, a sensation. I’m scared that my memory won’t be enough, so I take photos, record videos, take with me little things I find in places I’ll never visit again. I write too.
I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye as much as I’m doing lately. Many loved ones have gone to live abroad over the past two years, and others are going to do so in the next few months, like my brother and my boyfriend.
Everytime that I think of it it feels as if my world is crushing down slowly but relentlessly, and I’m left behind.
So I try to avoid thinking of the future as much as I can, although I know it’s no use: it will eventually catch up with me.
Recently I said goodbye to two friends that were no longer good for me; after many years of feeling mistreated, sad and insecure, and trying to work things out with no positive results, I reached my limit. Why did I even let these persons treat me so bad for such a long time? The question comes to my mind everyday since I said goodbye.
When I decided it was time to end it, I felt vertigo and uncertainty, as if I was looking over a high cliff. The first time I jumped one, I hesitated before doing so and almost fell down and crashed into the rocks. All the previous times I tried to end my relationship with these two people, I doubted constantly: will I be okay without them? What if I regret it and there is no way back?
But now I acted like I did when I jumped over that cliff for the second time: I threw myself into the water without looking back. Closing my eyes, letting my body feel heavy as the wind brushed my face and my thoughts went blank.
And I know a bit of me parted along with them, but it’s okay.
There are goodbyes I wish hadn’t happened, but I don’t regret any of them: with each one, a part of me left so a new one could grow. And I like that.
A few days ago I finished a two thousand piece puzzle, and some friends asked if I would frame it. I said no, I would store it back in its box until I wanted to do it again. They said I was crazy, but for me, it loses all the fun if I frame it.
Thinking about it, it’s pretty similar to saying goodbye: it’s a practice of learning to let go and flow with it.
Lately I’ve been more confident about my decisions, which doesn’t mean that parting ways comes easier to me, but maybe I’ve said goodbye to the part of me that was scared of being left behind. Or forgetting. Or being alone.
Sharing it with other people makes the experience more bearable, even if the gray cloud still looms over me.
