I used to think I sucked at goodbyes because I wept and carried on like a child. Then, I remembered that when I was a little girl, I used to pick fights with my friends before we moved away so I wouldn’t have to say goodbye. (It was the way I learned to cope with the Air Force life.) I didn’t have the courage, or perhaps coping mechanisms, to feel what leaving again and again made me feel. I turned away from it all in order to survive.
I know that avoiding was what I needed to do then, but I’m stronger now. Instead of fleeing, I hug and weep and wish our time together wasn’t yet over. Now, I say goodbye. It hurts. My chest aches and my throat tightens. My ego is excruciatingly exposed as the tears pour down my face. These are the tears of hundreds of resisted goodbyes. They are heavy and relentless. They are rarely convenient but they are, above all else, my truth.
Today, I choose to see these tears as a sign that I am in my body, feeling what needs to be felt, and embracing all of the parts of me who still needs to grieve. This is self-love. This is self-respect. This is personal evolution. And in this moment, I am grateful to be exactly this one.