Losing and Longing

So this is an embarrassing confession, but occasionally I have therapy sessions in my RA’s room [[because Deborah is an actual gem. Like diamond-quality. Except diamonds are probably too mainstream. She’s more of a sapphire. Anyway.]]

The embarrassing part isn’t the therapy part—I actually totally advocate counseling. No stigma. For real. The embarrassing part is that poor Deborah has to handle me sitting on the edge of her bed and blubbering incessantly while trying to form coherent sentences. Usually this all goes down while she’s trying to register for classes or write a paper. Which is why she’s a gem. Because she sets stuff aside for people who need her. It’s wonderful. And I’m off-topic again. This blog thing is harder than it looks.

ANYWAY. A couple weeks ago, our conversation centered on the way we view losses in our lives. Fun fact for ya: College is hard. Not the school part. That’s old hat for someone who’s been living that academic life for over a decade.

No, the hard part for me is leaving behind people who have surrounded me my entire life. The hard part is not having the same best friend who has been by my side since pre-school to talk to in the halls. The hard part is not having the best friend who was my band bus buddy for four years sitting beside me when all I need is to hear her voice. The hard part is being an hour away from my parents’ embraces, rather than a minute. The hard part is knowing that there’s a pretty good chance that I won’t recognize any of the faces around me when I go to lunch. It’s the little things I’d never considered being without that are the hardest. I never thought I’d miss running into people I knew at Wal-Mart… Okay, I’m not going to lie, I really don’t miss that. But you get my point.

Back to sitting on Deborah’s bed: I kind of had one of those “aha” realizations during that particular therapy session. Because it suddenly clicked in my brain that things change, and relationships change, and by definition that literally means that they will not ever be the same—no matter how much I want them to be. (mind-boggling, right? I know, I’m slow on the uptake; don’t judge.) I know, I know—not all change is bad. So don’t think that’s where I’m heading with this.

Change is not bad. But it is hard. Even if it’s a good change. Example: I’ve never had a kid, but rumor has it that when a tiny person comes in and wrecks your routine, it’s kinda difficult. But hey, kids are great. Little humans that populate the earth and give unconditional love. Good change? Yes. Hard? Definitely.

And so, while I sat there crying for everything I felt like I’d lost—everything that will never again be like it used to be—Deborah said something that is SO true.

<<It is one thing to recognize that you’ve lost something, and it is okay to grieve that loss. It is another thing to long for it, and that’s what you cannot do.>>

Change is hard. Life is hard. Loss is hard. Grieve for it. Give yourself time. I know I still need it. But don’t waste time longing for something you won’t get back.

My screensaver on my laptop is a collection of pictures from the last five years of my life. In each of the snapshots I see, I am so happy. I remember exactly how I felt in most (if not all) of them, and the joy there takes my breath away. And sometimes it hits me that I won’t ever have the exact same feelings I had in those moments again. So yes, it makes me sad. Yes, sometimes I do cry for that emptiness I feel as I watch some of my favorite memories flash across the screen.

Then I remember that most of my favorite memories haven’t even been made yet. And if that isn’t wonderful, I don’t know what is.

I’m nineteen. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m caught in the in-between: excitedly [and sometimes nervously] anticipating adulthood while simultaneously grieving the loss of my childhood. And that’s okay.

There is a difference between losing and longing. I will not allow myself to blur those lines.

[[I know this was long, so if you’ve stuck with me this far, you get a hypothetical cookie. And also a cyber-hug. Bring it here. That’s right. <3]]