The Band-Aid Affect

Tonight I had my goodbye dinner with Caveat.

I found myself, in what is left of my apartment, crying. It is so hard, so hard people, to walk away from the people you love (albeit only geographically). So, so hard. It's a gamble to leave so much certainty for the unknown. A gamble that I know will pay off, but right now...in this moment...my heart hurts. My heart is heavy, not because I think I'll never see my boys again, but because I know that things just won't be the same and I'm going to miss that a great deal.

I've been saying goodbye to varying pockets of people in my life over the last few weeks. Work friends, improv friends, college friends and tonight my improv family. Next up will be my Chicago family, and then my family family.

With every goodbye, it's like picking at a band-aid - slow, inevitable and unavoidable pain.

I'm a military brat and have moved around my whole life. To cope, I developed the nasty little habit of not letting people in. Closing my self up, so that leaving would be easy - pull the band-aid off quickly! But in college, I broke myself of this habit. I made up my mind that I didn't want to live a life where my guard was up all the time, letting only a few people in.

I worked at making myself available emotionally to my friends, which gave way to deeper more meaningful relationships. Relationships that I am so thankful for. But here's he kicker: The thing about having your wall down, is that it makes leaving fucking hard. Before? I'd say my goodbyes, pack up and move on, eyes forward. Now? I do the same, only every step is drenched with tears, smothered with priceless memories and I look back so much I make Lot's wife look like a chump. (Oh, that's right. Old testament bitches).

In all the sadness, I take comfort in knowing that meaningful relationships have passports and can be sustained abroad.