Frayed

The discovery and excitement are the positive points. There's always something new to see and to do. Somewhere to go, someone to meet. Whole cadres and masses of people to be exposed to. Some you pass dutifully, some you greet, some become friends, a rare few become real, deep connections.

So there's that. That's been a high point, something to be understood as a benefit and a blessing. Not everyone gets the chance to move around and have so many adventures. I've taken in and done more new things in that last two years than perhaps the last ten. I've met hundreds of people, heard hundreds of perspectives on life and love and living. The amount I've learned can't be quantified.

And yet, I can't seem to shake this feeling of becoming ... unhinged. Like the constant transience has worn away any sense of stability. To borrow a phrase, it almost feels I've become "Sort of stretched, like ... butter scraped over too much bread." A ghost.

I am in eternal flux; I think that's the root cause of my stretched feeling. It isn't so much the alteration of location, or the amount of travel, but the frequent loss of people. Every time I've developed a base of friends, people on whom I feel I can rely and talk to and even trust, I'm out the door and down the road. Then it's back to square one with an ever longer roster of distant confidantes, far away comrades, and (sometimes) former lovers.

It's as though someone keeps setting off a bomb, and the ensuing blasts rescatter my best friends to the four corners of the globe.

I've grown to abhor saying goodbye. A goodbye is always followed by long hours of solitude in motion, filled with nostalgia and longing. It often comes with a promise of return, but the return can never be soon. There are simply too many other places to go, too much else to do, too much cost. And maybe the promise of return is empty, at its core ... maybe the connection we share is already almost severed from excessive strain. Maybe this is the last time I'll see you, because the next few phone calls will be truncated, abrupt, lacking a commonality of experience that we can share and use to stay close.

I know that change is a part of life. Friends, places, jobs, love will all come and go. Everything in life is only for now.

But ... I think it's the intensity and frequency of the recent changes in my life that are affecting me. Every year has involved a complete change in vocation and focus. Every year has involved a tearful goodbye to a woman, and to friends, I've loved. Every year has ended in a solo trip over the horizon. And the general chaos, hecticity, and self-destruction between the transitions haven't helped.

In short, I feel worn. The physical strain has lessened since my return to PA, but I'm finding that the emotional strain has not. The goodbyes are harder than they ever were. Living alone, while more palatable than it was in KY, still sometimes leaves me with a feeling of intense isolation.

Worse, I can feel the looming gloom of my next move already. I can feel the sadness of having to schedule a farewell night. I can feel the weight of the boxes I'll be loading into the car, the weight of my foot on the gas pedal. I can feel what the hugs and high fives and well wishes will be like, the warmth followed by the sudden coldness.

Maybe I won't move? Maybe I will?

In the meantime, I need to find a way to feel more comfortable with these feelings. Saying goodbye is a part of life- things have fallen as they are, and we can't go backwards. I should value the fact that I have so many things from my past to miss. So many hundreds of memories and people have left me with a smile on my face and a good, if bittersweet, feeling. I must have lived a good life so far. I must be pretty lucky.

Maybe I'm putting too much emphasis on the goodbyes. Frequent loss probably instills this focus in you, to the point that you can't see beyond the things you wish you still had. But ... I'd hate to miss out on an important hello for want of a goodbye that's already past. And if I've learned one thing, it's that you never know when those important hellos will happen.