What I'm Left With
Spoiler Alert (that will surprise approximately zero people who know me): I am horrible at letting go of things.
I don't just mean slightly worse than average. I mean awful. Appallingly, shockingly awful.
Ever since I was young, the idea of losing something--losing people--has preoccupied and terrified me. So, when confronting a potential loss, I have the super awesome (ahem... read: annoying and pathetic) tendency to hold on as tightly as possible. I mean, who doesn't love clingy, amirite? But the flip side of this is I've never been a person who lets others in very easily. In high school, my best friend of three years told me one night, "You know, you're really hard to get to know. But once you let someone in, you're for life."
It's 16 years later and she's still my best friend. So, you know. She wasn't wrong.
I don't let people in easily, it's true. I invest a lot of energy in people, but at the same time, there's usually an emotional distance, at least on my end. I love, but I keep a safe cushion that allows me to let go easily when I need to. And, as someone who doesn't like letting go, that's a good thing. My screening process means that rarely does anyone get past my defenses who isn't going to take their position pretty permanently. But every once in a while...
Goddamn.
This year, my screening process went completely haywire. I invested, and then I let down my defenses. And, inevitably, the time came to part ways.
Did I mention that I'm awful at this?
And that, due to my lack of experience, I have very few coping mechanisms for it?
It's been messy.
But this is love letter, not a lament. Make no mistake, I hate losing people and letting go. It is the goddamn worst. And there are many times over this summer I have complained to anyone who will listen, "I wish I didn't care so much!" I've complained about feelings and said repeatedly that I want to go back to not having any. And you know what, that's true.
Loss hurts and letting go sometimes feels impossible (if you're like me). But loss in an inevitable byproduct of loving. And while I could do without loss, I could never do without loving. I hate letting go, but I'm so grateful to have things in my life that are worth holding on to. I'm grateful that people let me in to their lives to love them. I'm grateful for the time I get with those who have to leave in the end. I'm grateful that, no matter how bereft I might feel after all is said and done, I have been loved in return. I am, at the end of it all, grateful.
So I don't really know what to do with myself. I'll be crabby for a few days. Probably cry. Hopefully not to Biggie's "Big Poppa" (see last post), but I can't rule out Ludacris or Eminem bringing me to tears at this point. But I also know that I'll move on. I know that I'm softer than I was before, but that's because I have been loved, and love changes us. Time marches on and gives us no choice but to march with it. The past fades and the loss becomes less sharp, less all-consuming. It never goes away, but the intensity lessens.
And if you're lucky, all you're left with is the love.
I don't just mean slightly worse than average. I mean awful. Appallingly, shockingly awful.
Ever since I was young, the idea of losing something--losing people--has preoccupied and terrified me. So, when confronting a potential loss, I have the super awesome (ahem... read: annoying and pathetic) tendency to hold on as tightly as possible. I mean, who doesn't love clingy, amirite? But the flip side of this is I've never been a person who lets others in very easily. In high school, my best friend of three years told me one night, "You know, you're really hard to get to know. But once you let someone in, you're for life."
It's 16 years later and she's still my best friend. So, you know. She wasn't wrong.
I don't let people in easily, it's true. I invest a lot of energy in people, but at the same time, there's usually an emotional distance, at least on my end. I love, but I keep a safe cushion that allows me to let go easily when I need to. And, as someone who doesn't like letting go, that's a good thing. My screening process means that rarely does anyone get past my defenses who isn't going to take their position pretty permanently. But every once in a while...
Goddamn.
This year, my screening process went completely haywire. I invested, and then I let down my defenses. And, inevitably, the time came to part ways.
Did I mention that I'm awful at this?
And that, due to my lack of experience, I have very few coping mechanisms for it?
It's been messy.
But this is love letter, not a lament. Make no mistake, I hate losing people and letting go. It is the goddamn worst. And there are many times over this summer I have complained to anyone who will listen, "I wish I didn't care so much!" I've complained about feelings and said repeatedly that I want to go back to not having any. And you know what, that's true.
Loss hurts and letting go sometimes feels impossible (if you're like me). But loss in an inevitable byproduct of loving. And while I could do without loss, I could never do without loving. I hate letting go, but I'm so grateful to have things in my life that are worth holding on to. I'm grateful that people let me in to their lives to love them. I'm grateful for the time I get with those who have to leave in the end. I'm grateful that, no matter how bereft I might feel after all is said and done, I have been loved in return. I am, at the end of it all, grateful.
So I don't really know what to do with myself. I'll be crabby for a few days. Probably cry. Hopefully not to Biggie's "Big Poppa" (see last post), but I can't rule out Ludacris or Eminem bringing me to tears at this point. But I also know that I'll move on. I know that I'm softer than I was before, but that's because I have been loved, and love changes us. Time marches on and gives us no choice but to march with it. The past fades and the loss becomes less sharp, less all-consuming. It never goes away, but the intensity lessens.
And if you're lucky, all you're left with is the love.
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