today I have been feeling particularly emotional about upcoming life transitions. and also reflective. and since writing is therapeutic for me in these times, here I am.
I've always had trouble with change. any large life transition is typically followed by tears and an aching in my heart for things to remain the same forever. graduation from high school and college were nearly detrimental to my emotional state. and just when I thought I'd never have to go through that type of change again, here I am, almost four years later (ironically), staring it in the face.
when you know you're about to move from a place and people you love, every happy moment becomes bittersweet. the lovely memories you make start to take on a sharp sting, as if the universe is taunting you. this past month as I've laughed and talked and enjoyed the company of the people I have come to deeply know & love, I've struggled with how hard it will be on moving day to leave.
and this has made a part of me want to push away. stop making memories. wouldn't that be easier?
tonight as I cried to a friend about the difficulty of leaving, she pointed out that my pain was a good thing. I'm sorry, what? she pointed out that the fact I'm so torn up about leaving was a sign that I had spent my time here well. being sad about leaving is good. saying goodbye should be hard. otherwise, what have you been doing with your life?
connecting with people deeply is one of my favorite things about life. it reminds me most of Christ here on earth. and while it is wonderful in all of its glimpses into God's love for us, it also opens us up to heartache and makes us vulnerable. but I guess that's why it's beautiful. anything so spectacular and meaningful can't come without investment and risk, right?
goodbyes and change are hard for me because I love to connect with people. to invest and form deep and meaningful relationships. and while life circumstances are not always stable or guaranteed, I'm not going to stop just because I don't know what's going to happen in the future. I'd rather love deeply and hurt deeply than be disconnected and numb. I'm going to have to remind myself of that as I'm up to my elbows in tissues the next few months, but I'm standing by it.
Huntsville, Alabama, you are a very special place. I've called you home for four years, and you have truly been that -- my home. I could write a book about all that I've learned here, from life in the south, to being on my own, to lessons about myself. and I'm not ashamed to say that leaving you will be very, very hard.