I’ve never been good at goodbyes. I think it’s odd the word good is even part of the word goodbye, tucked into it like an internal smirking little oxymoron, forced on you whether you’re consenting or not.
I never really am. If it were up to me, I’d still be in touch with all my life’s best friends: the one from second grade who moved away, from high school and college who were in my wedding over 30 years ago and we just lost touch, the ones in recent years who walked away when I never would have.
It’s not easy being the kind of person who doesn’t walk away. You just end up hurt by the people who do. As someone who’s been diagnosed with BPD and treated for many years, I’ll always struggle with emotion regulation. Relationships cause anxiety and there’s no escaping that but, I’m generally hyper-focused on them, caring more than I should about maintaining the emotional well-being of those I love. The energy I put into interpersonal connections makes it more painful when I’m discarded from someone’s life.
I don’t keep many people close because I have a hard time trusting others, preferring to have more meaningful interactions with a few friends. I’ve written before about a savior complex. I’ve had the tendency to (unconsciously) choose friends (or they found me) who are damaged in some way. This isn’t purposeful, it’s because I identify with them and feel a kinship in the damage; maybe some sort of “we are in this together” mentality. I’m not advocating this, since it’s only served to get me hurt by people who are emotionally immature or even abusive.
It’s difficult, as a sort of garden-variety diagnosed mental patient who’s queer and a weirdo artsy recluse type who grew up in pretty adverse circumstance, to have any kind of meaningful interaction with cookie-cutter people who are boring. If you haven’t been through anything, don’t suffer from any mental health issues whatsoever, and/or are privileged, I don’t know what to say to you. I hate small talk. I’m not a surface person, and with all the sea glass stuff I’ve done over the years I love the Anais Nin quote: “I must be a mermaid. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.”
I have a need to find a small number of friends who have depth and imperfection, emotional range, and no fear of intimacy or commitment. I love flaws and authenticity. I hate makeup: I’ve never worn it and it turns out if you don’t set the expectation of people seeing you in it, they won’t be disappointed when you aren't. Most people live very shallow lives. Maybe people who walk away are people who care more about appearances than authenticity, shallow waters over depth, themselves over others.
As I prepare to move from this island I’ve loved for well over a decade in two weeks, there’s a pink full moon in Libra this weekend during a sea glass festival where my daughter’s band will play. I’ll lecture in the hall and do sea glass identification by the lighthouse. Time travels on, we move forward and put down things and people from our past, whether we want to or not.
I take comfort in being the type of person who leaves it all on the table. I couldn’t have loved any more, those I walked with for a while, who walked away, or this beautiful island I called home for so long. I’m lucky to have wonderful family and friends to pour energy and love into, and every month there’s another chance for a full moon ceremony to release the past and look ahead.