If you think about it, there are many ways to say goodbye. Farewell. Au revoir. Adios. Ciao. One of my personal favorites: Fuck off. Cheers. Though, just because there are so many ways to say goodbye, it doesn’t always—or ever—make saying goodbye any easier.
For starters, the word goodbye is so definitive, so final. It signals that the end of something, often the end of a relationship, has arrived. That small, double-syllable word packs a pretty mighty punch, too, implying that the two individuals saying goodbye plan on never seeing or speaking to each other again. And, in that sense, I can’t help but wonder . . . is there really any good in goodbye?
Sure, sometimes saying goodbye is a necessity. Be it for mental, emotional, or physical health, we say goodbye to a person, place, or a thing in order to survive. I said goodbye to alcohol in July 2020, and it ended up being one of the best decisions I’ve made in my entire existence. Well, that and saying goodbye to any sort of reality television.
Yet, what happens when saying goodbye isn’t as easy as giving up booze or shitty tv? What if saying goodbye is thrust upon us, the right albeit difficult decision we don’t want to make but have to make? What do we do when there isn’t any good in goodbye, but for the sake of our sanity, our peace of mind, we have to completely distance ourselves and part ways with a familiar, possibly even comfortable or integral facet of life?
After all, we may have choices but that doesn’t mean we have to like the choices presented to us or agree with them. There are times when we have no choice but to choose between the lesser of two evils. Perhaps that’s proof that God has a sense of humor.
Still, how do we say goodbye and manage to continue on? More importantly, how do we say goodbye and manage to move on?
Of course, the simple answer is, we just do. We wake up, struggle out of bed, force ourselves to work, come home, and then prepare to do it all over again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Scream, cry, break things. In a nutshell, that’s how the world goes around. Do we have a choice in the matter? We absolutely do: keep trekking on or lay down and die.
In June 2021, I wrote an article for Rage Monthly, “You’re Not Okay—And That’s Okay.” The highlights: When we go through a particularly challenging moment, such as heartbreak, we’re not given the necessary time, space, or grace to properly heal. The same can be said for when we have to say goodbye. Life doesn’t pause for us to cope and collect ourselves. We’re not given sick leave from responsibilities, but instead required to perform everyday duties as if all is good and nothing is wrong.
What a big crock of shit.
Additionally, it’s interesting to consider the complexities of saying goodbye depending on what, exactly, we’re saying goodbye to: a person, place, or thing.
For example, would you rather say goodbye—essentially give up—a person who was once significant in your life? Someone like a friend, partner, or even a family member? And, if it is a person you have to say goodbye to, is it better to say goodbye to the living or to the deceased? It’s not fun to coexist with someone you’ve said goodbye to but have to regularly see. These answers most likely hinge on the circumstance of the relationship at the time it ends.
Is it less painful to give up a place? You know, a city or neighborhood . . . a home. And let’s not forget about things. Could you effortlessly walk away from things like sugar, marijuana, or gossip? Bad habits are hard to break, aren’t they? Bad habits are hard to say goodbye to.
Then again, the solution may be to not say goodbye at all. We have the option to walk—or, in some instances, run—away. Quitting a person, place, or thing cold turkey. Disappearing or avoiding. Ghosting. However, while giving up a substance cold turkey may be thought of as brave or strong-willed, isn’t it immature or cowardly to ghost someone? Just because ghosting is an option doesn’t mean it should be used.
Personally, I’ve said goodbye many times, and to most of what has been mentioned above. People, places, things. Men, friends, family. Cities, neighborhoods, homes. Sugar, marijuana, gossip. Obviously, some items from the list have circled back and returned in full force, but that’s another article for another day.
Recently, someone I’ve known for a handful of years said goodbye to me, and they said it in a completely vulnerable, heartfelt way. Nonetheless, just because this goodbye was heartfelt and, in all honesty, fated, it doesn’t mean it was without hurt. The complete opposite, actually. This goodbye had me rushing to my therapist for an emergency session, where I was promptly told that goodbyes are a natural part of life.
For me, the hard part of saying goodbye centers on change. Change, even when appropriate, isn’t uncomplicated. It takes time to adapt to any sort of change—big or small. And, as mentioned above, when are we given suitable time to accept and get used to change? We’re not. That big crock of shit just got bigger.
It’s understandable that I’m looking at saying goodbye from the wrong angle. Goodbyes don’t have to be dramatic or messy or overanalyzed. Sometimes goodbyes are as simple as two people outgrowing each other. No more, no less. That, too, is a major part of life, isn’t it? Growth. Who doesn’t want to grow? Because, if we’re not growing—if we’re not changing—then we’re stagnant, complacent. Coasting. Who wants to coast forever?
Unfortunately, two people or two places or two things don’t always continue to grow together, at the same rate or in the same direction. Yes, that’s a disappointing statement, but it’s also a truthful one. If we don’t have the truth, then what do we have? And is it worth having?
The truth is this: Goodbyes, no matter how they’re presented, can suck. Good, bad, ugly. Abrupt, gentle, mutual. Heartfelt, blunt, invisible. Everyone handles saying goodbye differently. Everyone copes with the aftermath of goodbye differently.
If you’re currently going through any type of goodbye, remember to be kind to yourself. Also, be patient . . . because this, too, shall pass.
Leave a Reply