I've never been good at a clean break. It's not that I don't understand the benefits to cutting things off and walking away, it's that I have several qualities that keep me coming back again and again. The past is a seriously motivating push for the future. The best of the past, however, is all my rose colored romantic and optimistic glasses allow me to see. These people and experiences have been so influential to who I am today that I want to keep them close, to appreciate and continue to build. I see my life as a continuous push forward and up: each moment building on the next, slowly creating the life I love. Eliminating a part of my life is like eliminating a piece of the puzzle. Even if the piece doesn't fit where I want it to, I'm too afraid to throw it out incase I needed it after all.
So how does the girl who ties up her loose ends but then holds on to them with a smile leave the country for 27 months?
Slowly.
It starts with a year long process of saying goodbye to a campus that I spent four years laughing, crying, and growing on. Visits on the weekends. Spontaneous trips down for a best friends party. Keeping up with the campus wide drama. Helping friends navigate their own highs and lows in Columbus. Lunch and dinner and ice cream and short north dates with anyone I can catch. Bridging the gap to my current school through the ballroom world. Introducing friends and breaking down the rivalry. Saying goodbye and ignoring that I will most likely never see that person again. Or that person. Or that person. Mistakenly (or maybe not) leaving my heart there months after it was supposed to leave. Welling up with tears of amazement and nostalgia as I drive onto campus, shedding tears of goodbye when I drive away, rather than when I give a farewell hug. There is no such thing as a clean break from some of the most formative times of your life.
The next process is not getting too attached to my new school. I planned this one half-assed and executed it poorly. Instead of a year of staying on the outskirts, I catapulted myself into the middle of an incredible community of dancers who embraced me as one of their own. I once again got way too lucky with my random roommate, and began to revel in the other social justice minded social workers surrounding me. It's strange to dig in roots when you know you'll be leaving in a year, but I learned there's no point skimming the surface of friendship, no matter how long you have. And now the end of the year, and another wave of goodbyes to people I won't see again. Another set of humans who have influenced the path of my life in ways neither of us will really understand. But this time, a summer to play out.
The summer. To visit and explore and have adventures and to cram everything in to three months. Everything I might not eat or see or do for two years. Everything I might end up leaving behind for good when I go. Last visits. Last goodbyes. Lasts. To knowing that the friends and family from home that I wait the longest to hug goodbye, who's goodbyes will shed the biggest tears, are the ones I am not breaking from. They are the ones who have been there for 12, 16, 23 years. They are the ones I spend almost every day talking to from miles apart, who I plug into my schedule first, who have been through every misstep and victory. They are the ones who do not lament at how I'm leaving them, do not ask if I'm excited, but simply know that this journey is the one I chose and will not be persuaded from. They knew me before. They know me now. They'll know me then. There is no break with them.
Because it isn't just leaving behind friends and family. About missing out on the milestone moments of the people I love most. It's leaving who I am now behind. It's knowing that the person who steps off the plane 27 months later will be a 25 year old woman who no one on this continent has met before. Including the 23 year old woman sitting here typing this. Foundationally, we all stay the same, sure. But the beauty of leaving is not knowing which parts of me will change in incomprehensible ways. The beauty of leaving is hoping when I return I'll be a better version of myself. But there is no such thing as a clean break from the person you are.
So you tie up loose ends, you let go of the people who don't at least meet you halfway, you plan to see the ones you love again. You get all of your paperwork in order. And you do your best to live every day the way that you want to. Hoping it's enough.
Best,
Bethany
The next process is not getting too attached to my new school. I planned this one half-assed and executed it poorly. Instead of a year of staying on the outskirts, I catapulted myself into the middle of an incredible community of dancers who embraced me as one of their own. I once again got way too lucky with my random roommate, and began to revel in the other social justice minded social workers surrounding me. It's strange to dig in roots when you know you'll be leaving in a year, but I learned there's no point skimming the surface of friendship, no matter how long you have. And now the end of the year, and another wave of goodbyes to people I won't see again. Another set of humans who have influenced the path of my life in ways neither of us will really understand. But this time, a summer to play out.
The summer. To visit and explore and have adventures and to cram everything in to three months. Everything I might not eat or see or do for two years. Everything I might end up leaving behind for good when I go. Last visits. Last goodbyes. Lasts. To knowing that the friends and family from home that I wait the longest to hug goodbye, who's goodbyes will shed the biggest tears, are the ones I am not breaking from. They are the ones who have been there for 12, 16, 23 years. They are the ones I spend almost every day talking to from miles apart, who I plug into my schedule first, who have been through every misstep and victory. They are the ones who do not lament at how I'm leaving them, do not ask if I'm excited, but simply know that this journey is the one I chose and will not be persuaded from. They knew me before. They know me now. They'll know me then. There is no break with them.
Because it isn't just leaving behind friends and family. About missing out on the milestone moments of the people I love most. It's leaving who I am now behind. It's knowing that the person who steps off the plane 27 months later will be a 25 year old woman who no one on this continent has met before. Including the 23 year old woman sitting here typing this. Foundationally, we all stay the same, sure. But the beauty of leaving is not knowing which parts of me will change in incomprehensible ways. The beauty of leaving is hoping when I return I'll be a better version of myself. But there is no such thing as a clean break from the person you are.
So you tie up loose ends, you let go of the people who don't at least meet you halfway, you plan to see the ones you love again. You get all of your paperwork in order. And you do your best to live every day the way that you want to. Hoping it's enough.
Best,
Bethany
Time and Change Will Surely Show, How Firm Thy Friendship O-HI-O
