The Goodbye

Hey guys,

So, today I wanted to discuss something that has been a part of my life since before I had lived half a decade on this earth. Moving. Now, I know that moving isn’t necessarily anything new and that it’s not nearly as hard or exciting as it used to be (especially when passage across the Atlantic was in a rat-infested aquatic vehicle with a 90% death rate. Ah, the good old days.) But alas, I think it interesting, since I myself moved about a month ago from Houston, Texas to the metropolis across the border, Mexico City.

Essentially I wanted to share my thoughts on the first half of moving–the goodbye. In my experience, this is often the most dreaded part. It’s the part that makes you want to spend the last of your days sobbing quietly into a crumpled up Kleenex anytime someone mentions the club meeting they’ve scheduled for next month. Indeed, since my move in particular came in the middle of the school year, well, this first half of the process was all the more difficult.

I found myself sitting in class thinking about the future, a future where my seat would soon be empty, maybe filled by a stranger, by a novelty that would replace all I had known. Maybe I’m nostalgic (I mean, I do have an entire bookcase decorated with a vintage typewriter, vintage postcards, vintage binoculars, a vintage radio–you get the point.) Maybe I love holding on to the idea of a fleeting moment, that fleeting mark you make on a community in the transient haze of life. It’s pretty magical getting to be a nomad. To be a tourist and yet to be allowed years to get to know the people in the small corner you’re temporarily inhabiting. This is why, I’ve learned, no matter how short your stay you must be rid of all inhibitions, all timidity, and proceed with confidence in who you are so as to be lucky enough to get to know the people around you. There is quite literally no time to be wasted in being shy, no point in being so afraid to spark up a conversation that you miss the chance and once again you’re packing up your bags without any memento to take with you.

Of course, this way of life–driven by passion and intensity no matter the length of your visit–can also be hard. It is hard to be sensitive to the precious moments in life. It is hard to care about people so quickly and so deeply when the time comes to leave them. For example, when I was preparing for my most recent move, I was in the middle of finals. Simultaneously, I was an emotional wreck trying to keep it together every time I saw my friends. Of course it is cumbersome to have feelings. Particularly when I have moved so much, I could easily become a cold, heartless homo sapiens incapable of opening herself to anybody or allowing anybody near me for fear of attachment. But that’s no way to live. I have always believed that it is better to seek large heights despite their large falls for the simple thrill of reaching the top.

Basically, what this first half of my move taught me is that no matter how tough it is to tearfully pack away every last morsel of memories from your home and to say goodbye to your best friend and to the lake next to your house and the little ice cream place you always biked to with your brother…it’s okay. It’s okay to allow yourself those feelings. It’s okay to cry/sob/nearly-hyperventilate-because-oh-my-god-you’re-gonna-miss-everything-and-everyone-and-it’s-so-scary-to-move-gah. Because we’re all human, and we all are attached to a life of comfort and normalcy.

Moving to a new city, thousands of miles away from what you know and what is expected, is super scary. It means uprooting yourself to a place where you may not know the language, you have to make new friends, you have to once again discover the best place to find a legit vegan mediterranean salad, and you no longer know what to expect every day. You become the newb. Being the newb is hard–you get taken advantage of, maybe mugged a little, you’re constantly frustrated at feeling stupid because you don’t recognize or know anything. But then, all of a sudden, you’re no longer a newb and just like that, you know your way around, maybe can roll a few handy-dandy words in the language off your tongue, and maybe, just maybe, you’ve found new amazing people that could maybe possibly become your new best friends.

Change is the catalyst to progress. How can you hope to stretch to your limits and grow beyond them if you are living in the same bubble all of your life? There’s so much to this world out there. So go out (confidently) and find it. And although, yes, the first half of moving, the infamous goodbye, is the most soul-piercing, treacherous, terrible experience to go through, it also allows us to realize the love we have scattered around the world. I have friends literally in every single continent who, though I haven’t talked to them every single day, when I meet up with them again it’s as if nothing had ever changed. The sort of friendships you create as a time-zone trespasser are invaluable because the ultimate goodbye allows you to recognize the worth such friendships hold. As my mom always loves to point out, it’s almost like attending your own funeral. Goodbye parties and partings allow you to hear how people truly see you and allow you to sow the seeds you have planted with every person you have touched and been touched by. It’s an honour not many are given the chance to have.

So don’t be afraid of this first half of moving for the sorrow it will bring, but be happy for all of the joy you have experienced and all of the joy you will experience on your new adventure.