I was talking to a friend on the phone the other day and the subject of goodbyes came up: How our goodbye was gut wrenchingly hard and whether it was easier to leave or be left.  I believe it is easier to be the one leaving than the one being left. I’ve experienced (as most of us have) both sides of the coin.  When my best friend moved away from San Diego with her fiancé, I felt this huge hole in my heart and lump in my throat. Who would invite me over for Sunday dinner as their third wheel? Who would take me on their group friend trips and insist I come even if that means sleeping on the floor in their rented room? Who would I walk over to with wine and a stories about the guys I was dating? Who would be my sanity but never judge me for being crazy when I started most conversations with, tell me if I’m being crazy but this is what I just did… Who would answer me with, “First off, you ARE being CRAZY, but we can figure this out together…”? It was her time to enter the next chapter in her life. I was so happy she was happy… and yet so sad I was losing my rock. Of course we’d be friends forever but our San Diego chapter had come to a close and it was really difficult to handle.

When she left, I went through a friendpression. I had other friends but no one like her who was in a loving relationship but also completely independent. I never had to worry about her putting me on hold to ask her fiancé if she could hang out with me. It took me a while, but I did recover from the loss and I did go on to make one or two more very dear friends who I hold in as high esteem. In that respect, I got really lucky. I felt left behind a lot in San Diego as friends moved away. I wanted so badly for things to stay the same always, and yet they were always changing because friends were always moving on. San Diego can be a transient town and so a lot of friends moved back to their families to start families of their own. At the time, I never thought I’d meet anyone worth settling down with in San Diego, therefore, I’d always live in San Diego. Just like 1+1=2…or so I thought.

Three years later, it was my turn to leave. The best case scenario had happened, I’d fallen in love and HE was the best reason to leave. I knew I’d be a fool not to, however, whenever I leave anything good a part of me always wonders if anything else will ever be as good? Like, how can it be? I also try lean on the positive thought of starting anew, and the possibilities that lie ahead in the next adventure. As a Navy brat, this was instilled in me growing up: You greet transition with positivity even if you’re dying on the inside. Growing up, we moved.  We left dear friends, we started new schools, we got into the mode of adapting and starting over. So from experience I knew I wouldn’t die from heartbreak. I knew the wounds I felt would eventually heal and I’d be okay. Given enough time, I’d even feel great again.

So why is it harder to be left than to leave? When you’re left, the setting stays the same. The same beaches, ice cream shops, bars, and parks you used to have friend dates at are still there. You feel this weird resentment that life goes on even though your best friend is no longer there. You pass by her old apartment and are filled with memories of some of the most life altering conversations you’ve ever had. Like, should I or should I not fly to Colorado for a 3rd date with someone I really know nothing about? He could be a serial killer and I could be the next Dateline special! She told me to go, and it was the best decision, as the serial killer in question is now my husband and much the opposite of a serial killer in general.  After I left, San Diego I needed some time to pass before going back to visit. If the wound was too open, too fresh, I worried I may freak out and stay there upon re-entry.  I’d end my new marriage out of fear of personal growth. Instead, I work to embrace everything good about where I am and lead with an openness to connecting with new people. Will I ever be graceful with transition? Probably not. I cry, I’m emotional, I second guess my decision to leave, and I wonder how I will ever build a life so rich in relationships again. Did I mention I’m dramatic? But then I moved, and the really great friendships I left grew stronger and the new ones I’m forming (slowly but surely) seem destined.