A very dramatic title for a very non-dramatic post. I’m full of reason and sense.

This is just to pass along a thought I’ve recently had settle in. If you’ve been around here for any amount of time, you know we’ve had a rough go of it over the last couple of years. It’s easier to talk about a little more nonchalantly these days; things aren’t as emotionally charged as they were for that first little while. One of the byproducts of all of our chaos has been a quick and sudden loss of most of the people we had been in any sort of contact with. This included some of our very closest friends, folks with whom we haven’t spoken in well over a year.

Bit of background on me — I’m a full-fledged Army brat. If you happened upon my “about me” page, you saw that in my younger days, I moved approximately 6,000 times. It was truthfully closer to every 2 years, occasionally every year, but still. A lot. One of the things young, shy, introverted Kelly learned quickly was that friends leave. You make them quick, you lose them quick. We had no social media, bless our hearts. We barely had AIM (RIP) when I got to high school. If you wanted to keep in touch, you wrote a real live actual letter with a stamp and everything. Aaaaand when you’re 10, that just doesn’t last for long. But no one was bothered by this. It was just our existence. It made it hard to get too close, you wanted to try to avoid that inevitable hurt, but you did the best you could.

As was bound to happen, young Kelly turned into grownup Kelly and life continued. I lived in the same geographical area for six (count ’em, SIX) YEARS. But the weird thing is, even if you’re geographically in the same place, people will still come and go. This is somehow infinitely more hurtful because you don’t seem to have the excuse of distance. Circumstances don’t feel like a good reason… shouldn’t you just be able to suck it up and walk through things together?

But people are the worst. Not specific people. I’m not undercover-shading anyone right now. Honest. Just people in general…. well, life is hard. Everybody’s got their own stuff. Other people’s stuff is scary, especially if it hits too close to home, or on the flip side, is nothing you’ve ever encountered before. Maybe it’s easier to just… disappear. I don’t know.

So if you ever find yourself in this place I’ve found myself in, here’s what I’ve figured out. You accept it. You feel it. You acknowledge to yourself that a friendship (or relationship of whatever kind) happened, was GREAT, and is over. Maybe there was a blowout. Maybe you just never got a reply to your text, or the next one, or (what became) the last one. Either way, there has come an eventual end.

It’s ok.

You let it hurt. Feel snarky about it. Grieve it. Be angry, and bitter, and sad. Almost pick up the phone 400 times, and maybe actually do it. I never did. Personally I reached the point where it was more hurtful to try to put effort into something that wouldn’t be, than to just feel the hurt and let it go. Do what you have to do, until finally, you feel ok about it. You’ll be able to say nonchalantly, this was a thing that happened and now it’s over.

People come and go. It’s a simple truth, but Jesus, it’s hard to walk through.

And here’s the other thing you do — don’t be one of those people. Invest in your people. Walk through their seasons. Hold their hand, return their texts. Send the first text. Stick around. If time comes that for whatever reason a relationship actually needs to end, do it well.

As for me, I’m currently in a spot where I’m in contact with very few people. The closest one geographically is two states away. The furthest is on the literal opposite corner of the country. I have no people here, close to home, currently. It’s ok. I don’t say it with a “please pity me” tone. It’s just what it is. I once had someone tell me she put her efforts into friendships that weren’t near to her, and it didn’t leave room for much else. I understand that now. Luckily I’m still quite an introvert and a bit of a loner, so I really do ok. I’ll have people again someday, and I feel a little better equipped to navigate that.

And anyway, most days I feel like Michel from Gilmore Girls when he says (all together now), “People are particularly stupid today. I can’t talk to any more of them.”

Oy with the poodles already.

Tags: be yourself community friends