change Archives - Megan Hallier

The painful realisation that growing up means saying goodbye

There is this feeling I get.

A dull ache in the pit of my stomach. A tug on my heartstrings. A bittersweet knowing that what once was, can never be again.

I feel it as I’m watching my brother’s face grow smaller in the rearview mirror.

I feel it as I wave wildly out the car window to match my parents equally enthusiastic waves.

I feel it in the hugs, the kisses, and the jokes shared between friends I’ve collected through the years.

It’s the ever-present, always crushing reality of goodbyes.

The fact that no matter what we try to do, we cannot slow down time. We cannot prevent our forward momentum. We are prisoners of time, captive to its sweeping clutches.

And so the ache widens. Numbing my fingertips and prickling tears to my eyes.

But I inhale a little sharper and wipe swiftly at my eyes, because I know this is a feeling I must become familiar with, an ache I must learn to corral.

I hate these sudden realizations that startle us in adulthood.

I had such sweet hopes and a rosy view of what it would be like to grow up and like plunging into icy water, the reality has been shocking to the system.

How could I have known the tears of homesickness that would pour down my cheeks the first night I slept in my dorm room?

How could I have foreseen the way I would miss the ordinary, Saturday morning grocery shopping with mum or standing beside the blazing fireplace in winter with my dad?

How could I have predicted that I would one day become best friends with my vexatious brother and that leaving him would feel like a kick to my gut?

But I know now the truth of adulthood. That goodbyes are endless. That death, loss and grief are inescapable. That loving anything or anyone will eventually leave you aching.

The older we get, the more pieces of ourselves we leave scattered in different places.

A piece curled up in our bedroom back home. A piece with our college roommate, a piece with the friends we met at church, a piece with our first boyfriends and a piece with the ones after that.

And even though I’m moving back home, even though I’m going to be closer to my parents, even though this is what I want, I feel so very sad.

I feels as though I keep moving to new places, digging my roots down and then once again I find myself being torn apart as I am are forced to say goodbye.

It seems that we are never really whole again. We will always be scattered in the places and people who shaped us.

Wherever we go, we leave loved ones behind.

It’s beautiful and tragic.

What a treasure it is to have friends spread out across the world like lighthouses. Beacons of familiarity and safety on our travels abroad.

How happy it makes me to find kindred spirits in my workplace. To feel accepted and find belonging among my colleagues.

And how lovely it is to find friends who feel like family, who become your brothers and sisters, who know and love you for who you are.

I am lucky to be so loved. I am lucky to love so much.

But that doesn’t make the goodbyes any easier.

That doesn’t soften my loss or comfort me in my loneliness.

growing up, moving on, change, adulthood friendships, making friends as an adult, relationships, saying goodbye,

The painful truth is that growing up means saying goodbye.

In this life we will always be shifting through seasons. We will always be in transition. People will always be coming and going; making their mark and subtly changing us.

Somehow, I think I’m getting better at saying goodbye.

Despite the tightness in my chest and the tears flooding the corners of my eyes.

I’ve realised that sometimes a goodbye is necessary for us to grow and evolve as people.

I think I have learnt to hold things and people more loosely than I used to. Not because I’m afraid of getting hurt, but because I know that some people aren’t meant to be in our lives forever.

I used to cling to friendships and potential love interests like they were lifesavers keeping me afloat.

I don’t feel that way anymore. I can do this on my own. I can keep floating without them.

I’m not afraid of the goodbye because I know there will be plenty of hellos to come. Friendships won’t be the same and that stings but I know I won’t be alone.

Relationships don’t define me because I am whole regardless of whether I am the other half of a couple or not.

But for those who are permanent fixtures in our lives, who we put down on our emergency contact list and who own a spare key to our house…

It’s never really goodbye anyway. It’s see you soon or see you later.

I am cheered by the fact our family and long time friends will never really fade into a blurry memory or become lost in the pile of unread mail.

For there are certain people you just never really say goodbye to. Despite years and distance, there is something that always draws you back. A connection that cannot be broken.

So I’m holding tightly to that with every last hug and wave out the car window. The ones who matter most of all aren’t disappearing forever.

It’s not goodbye…it’s see you soon or see you later.

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In Living intentionally

That familiar feeling of a changing season

There is no season where change is as tangible as autumn.

In autumn, change flashes in brilliant reds, oranges and browns. It cascades to the ground and swirls in the wind. Change catches your foggy breath on the cool mornings and blazes across the late afternoon sky.

All of nature sings its’ song, a maudlin melody, a solemn symphony.

I have an autumnal heart. Fiery and passionate, wild and chaotic.

This season will always be my favourite. The cooling down from the hot, sticky summer and the gentle easing into the deep chill of winter. The feeling of wrapping up in layers and bracing yourself to be met at the door by a brisk wind. The scent of rain on the pavement and damp foliage on the driveway.

In autumn, the leaves take turns changing into brilliant colours and falling slowly to carpet the ground.

What once was bright and alive, dies off to make space for the new.

As I’m watching the trees glorious transition I see pieces of myself turning the same golden hues. Right here and now I am evolving, Shedding my old self and becoming something new.

This process requires making peace with the past.

That girl I was three years ago sitting in that first lecture feeling overwhelmed by the flurry of information that had just been dumped on me. The girl who shyly hid away in her dorm room all year, only making an appearance at mealtimes. That girl who was ashamed of herself, unsure of herself, afraid of herself.

That girl was me and still is me.

I hold her close to my chest. I keep her near to my heart. I love her because she reminds me that as people we evolve.

And we need change in order to do that. Pearls need to be rubbed around in that oyster shell. Diamonds need to be squeezed depth beneath the earth. Butterflies need to force their way out of their chrysalises.

So I’m not embarrassed of the girl I was. I’m so very proud. She did the best she could with what she had. And for that I am grateful.

This is how I am letting go, by extending kindness to the pieces of myself that I might not be most proud of.

And it seems my life once again is swirling with change.

I hoped that by the time my graduation ceremony came around I would have clarity about my future. I thought I may have a full time job or at least an inkling of my next steps, but instead, I find myself slipping back into unemployment and uncertainty.

Here I am again, with a door closing behind me and nothing on the other side.

And it makes me wonder, do the trees know for certain that summer will return again? Are they sure that the winter will end and they will have the strength to sprout new leaves and shoots?

It seems to me that they just fall.

They just let go. They just keep moving forwards and we have to as well. Regardless of what lies ahead, that’s the only way we can trek.

These seasons of change, these major life transitions often catch us off guard. They can make us feel as though the rug has been ripped out from under us. And it is these moments more than ever that we find our faith being tested.

This is the place where the rubber meets the road.

It’s foreign and yet somehow familiar. I’ve been here before. I know the signs of a changing season. I’m still afraid.

But what I’ve learnt is that there is wonder in the waiting. That lonely place of unknown is beautiful because it places us dependent on God to meet all of our needs. It strengthens and grows a faith that actually means something.

A faith based on real events rather than flaky opinions and secondhand beliefs.

That’s the kind of faith I want. Deeply rooted in truth. Completely receptive to change.

So this time around I’m taking my cues from the deciduous trees. I’m flinging myself headfirst into the unknown. I’m leaping forwards because it’s all I know to do.

This is how I am moving on.

I won’t be wallowing, moping or feeling sorry for myself. You will not catch me succumbing to the crippling anxiety again.

This time I’m just going to fall.

Because I know now that clarity requires movement. We can’t just sit around hoping for writing in the sky or neon signs to flash the answer. We have to just start walking, and as we do, we find out where we are going.

It’s one of those crazy upside kingdom rules. We step out first and then the faith comes. We jump and then we’ll find where to place our feet.

It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense when you are standing still but looking back over your shoulder you’ll remember how you’ve been here before. You’ll see all the big ways and small ways that God was faithful to you.

Well I do at least. He brought summer before and I know He will do it again.

That’s the truth when everything is changing. You simply have to cling to the one who is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

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