Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Letting Go

I hate it. I hate letting go. I think it's why I retain all my bad habits. It's the loss of them - of anything - that I can't stand, even if what waits for me on the other side is good. I'd rather keep the familiar, thank you very much, and pass the salt.



I am sure this is because I had an overage of letting go when I was little. I attended three elementary schools over the course of eight years. I lived at home, I lived with my grandparents, I lived with my aunt. My dad was there, my dad wasn't there. I had cousins and then I didn't. I spent so much time leaving, leaving and saying good-bye. I hated it.



And I hate it now.



So I work very hard at not leaving and not letting go. So far, this has made for a very strong marriage, some great life-long friendships and some uncomfortable pants, as I probably should let some of the ones that haven't fit me for six years go. I'm sure my hips would agree, but who's asking them anyway?



Of course, the not-letting-go thing has made parenting excruciating, since all you do as a parent is let go. My children have learned to tug and pull toward the music of their own lives quietly, so as to not interrupt my symphony of psychosis. I know that's a little nuts, but it works for us and who's asking you anyway?



So I've got this carefully constructed life with the same house, same neighborhood, same pants. Same, same same! Yay!



The thing is, not everyone is like me. Some people accept, embrace - even pursue - change. These people drive me insane, especiallywhen I love them. And despite all my labors to the contrary, some of them go. I have to say good-bye and let go.



And I want to scream at them "NO! Don't go! You're going to ruin everything! You're going to make me cry and feel lonely and lost and I don't want you to go because I need you in order to keep my sameness SAME. Don't you see that?!"



I want to run at them inelegantly flapping my arms to catch their attention and then I want to clutch them close to me and transfer my inexplicable, unreasonable fear of change to them through the heat of my body so they'll stay and never go.



I want to, but I know it's the wrong thing. I know I must love those around me enough to allow them their choices without the burden of mine weighing them down. I know others' happiness belongs to them and I owe them comfort and confidence when they're off to pursue their dreams. I know that I can't change the fact that things change and sometimes I must say good-bye and carry on. I know that.



But I hate it. I hate letting go.

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