A Love Letter to the Girl Who's Leaving

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To the girl who's leaving,

I know things feel a little weird right now. You're swimming in unsettled, in a sea of the in-between. You're transitioning, but haven't transitioned. Wondering, what is it about leaving? Not just leaving . . . but leaping. Why is change so hard? 

In theory it seems thrilling and romantic, but reality is scary and totally overwhelming. Your heart feels like a room with scattered boxes—misplaced and messy. And you are in the room with the boxes. So you grasp onto things you no longer need, looking for meaning you cannot find. The past doesn’t exist, the future is unknown. Yet you are still here. In this room. Feeling strange.

This room is the hard part. The packing. The goodbyes. The leaving while still loving. Hearts not yet broken, relationships either mended or ignored. There is no pause, there is only onward, and time is running out. You don't know what feels right. With all that emotion you feel numb. 

So you go through the motions, holding onto an unquenchable idea of a better way of living. You imagine your shoulders tanned. Your laugh deep, coming from a real place in your belly. Your eyes have newfound shimmer. A reflection of how you feel on the inside. You believe in this vision. You are committed to finding internal ease. Your own kind of harmony.

In this room nothing feels real. You feel numb yet you feel everything. So, while you're in this room be fully in this room. Be with the cobwebs, the hairball in the corner, the paper cuts and the boxes. Be with the sweat and old tee shirts and cardboard duct tape smell. Be with yourself, and be gentle with yourself. Feel whatever it is you are feeling.

Give yourself permission to let fear curdle in your stomach, let loneliness pour through your mind, words flow from your fingers. Cry tears of overwhelm, let a goodbye leave your gut in pain. Don't ignore these feelings. Don't resist them. Lean in, to a friends shoulder, to yourself. Don't judge or try to change the emotions pouring through you. Just be with them.

You are not one to turn away when times get hard. If you were you wouldn't be here, in this room. You are a seeker, a creator, a believer. Being all-in the process means going through every stage of the process. You don't need to know the lessons yet. But don't cheat yourself from the experience of learning them.

Because the pain, the thread of resistance, is the same space where courage grows. There is a brightness swelling inside you. A new you ready to unravel. A root of awareness, compassion, energy and perspective ready to come to life. You are evolving, fast. So let it happen. Give it space to grow.

These Things May Make It Easier

1. write 

To bring clarity to what doesn't make sense. 

2. Move your body

 Get outside, or on your mat. Go for a walk, a run, a hike, a ride. Do a gentle yoga flow, or just soften your knees and sway.

3.  Call Your friend

The one that gets you. Because now's not the time to be the strong one. 

4. Say i forgive you. thank you. i love you. i'm Sorry.

Those four phrases. Whoever you need to say it to. Because life is short and things are changing and now's your chance. 

5. Create a sanctuary space

In one last remaining place like a bedside table or shelf. Move the last plant, book, candle, journal, stone, picture, etc here.

6. make a playlist

Or just listen to this one. Music might be the only thing you feel you can relate to right now. Use it to comfort and fuel you. Strong female vocals & soft songs. Here's the leaving playlist I made when moving to New York. All the feels.

 

7. Remember to Breathe

All there is sometimes. Wherever you are, no matter how lost, or confused, or lonely, you always have your breath. Come back in, sit still, soften enough to feel what you're feeling. Allow yourself to feel it all. Connect back with yourself. 

As the silent spark of courage grows, unexpected friends show up, you realize loves depths in a last hug, and all the things you never needed anyways. All it did was take up space in your room. And you realize, you are not your boxes. The stuff in them mean nothing. Relationships hold all the meanings.

Your heart swells with adrenaline and uncertainty, this foreign feeling, this new cocktail. You get a new notebook to fill with pages of your life. Blank pages. The first chapter of a new story. And you have yet to write the first page. You are the main character. The setting is different, as are the people. The plot has yet to develop, but it will take turns you could never predict. There will be a climax, of course. Conflicts and resolution. In these pages you will learn lessons, fool yourself, prove yourself wrong. Most of all you will surprise yourself. All these things happen in the process. But you're not there yet. You're still in this room.

Life happens in the transitions. Find grace by letting people in. Let them help you. Allow them to carry some weight. But trust the silent strength of your heart.

It's important to express yourself in this vulnerable, exposed state. When stripped of comfort, internal truths reveal. The room is empty, but the important stuff is back on the table.

I write this to you, strong girl feeling soft. Promise me, if you do nothing else, you will allow yourself to feel. Feel whatever you are feeling. And document it. Stop in an alleyway to let a flood of words string into a poem. Take the picture of that street. Stop to face the sun and feel it on your face. Listen to that song on repeat. Learn the all the words. Surround yourself with people who love you. Keep coming back to your middle. Following your breath in.

& Remember this. . .

Feel it all. Give yourself permission to. This room is where your new journey begins. It happens before you board the plane or open the car door. Have faith in all you have yet to learn. Your vulnerability is beautiful. Your courage is admirable. You are brave. You are soft. You are on your way.

Only onwards. xx