Seasons of Change

Photo by Olga Budko on Unsplash

The hot summer days are coming to an end, and fall is slowly seeping into each day. Cooler morning temps, the sun taking longer to rise, and the dark falling earlier remind us it’s only a matter of time until flannels and hoodies make their way out of the back of our closets.

It’s a change I find myself anxious for, yet not fully ready to embrace. The last few months were a mixture of highs and lows for me. A birthday that brought incredible joy. A cancer-free diagnosis for a loved one after a painful surgery and recovery. Weddings; celebrating a love finally found for friends I treasured and adored.

While beautiful moments were at every turn, the season also marked a series of painful losses for me, staggered across the months. Each cut deeper, and proved more heart wrenching, until I found myself in a darkness that took time to crawl out of – a heaviness I’m still working my way through if I’m honest.

In June, my relationship of nearly a year ended. He was the first man I’d fallen in love with in almost half a decade. We worked hard to invest in one another, diving in as we raced against time, but ultimately, we chose to part ways. And in that decision, I lost a lover, and perhaps even more painfully, the future we had begun to imagine together.

I lost my roommate in July when he packed up his things and moved out.  He was the first and only romantic partner I’d ever lived with and someone I sincerely enjoyed cohabiting with. He filled the simple moments as well as the big ones, and I found I wanted him for both.

In August, my beloved rescue pup passed away unexpectedly, and my heart broke in a whole new way. The unconditional love I found in having a dog was unlike any love I’d experienced. The beautiful little family I’d celebrated Christmas with, our personalized stockings hung over the fireplace as we spent cozy nights snuggled on the couch together, was gone before autumn came.

And by early September, although the good intensions we had of remaining close friends despite our breakup, the visits and texts began to slow, until I realized one day I’d lost my best friend in my new city.

I’m no stranger to loneliness, but the compounded loss was heavier and darker in the absence of so much love that had recently filled my days. And it’s in these moments that I feel a swirl of contradictions – not knowing where I belong and feeling the urge to move, leave, change – and a heaviness that makes me want to stay still and feel and grieve.

When I think about steps forward, a piece of my heart loves the thought of a slow, calculated life where I rescue senior pups and move lazily at their pace, loving something that so few others would because of the inevitable pain that comes far too soon.  But I also wonder what life could be like with a spirited dog eager for long hikes and endless adventures that matches my natural energy level. Sometimes, I think about the freedom of my past - to come and go and visit friends in places across the world when the opportunity arises – with nothing holding me back.

 I want nothing left behind but something waiting for me. I dream of new experiences in new cities, but I crave the familiarity of my past lives. I miss that knowing I had with my former partner – the seeing and being seen in a way you only can when so much time is wrapped up in one another. And yet I can’t help feeling there’s a better fit for us both if we’re honest with ourselves.

I want to be everywhere, but I feel like I belong nowhere. I want to stay and I feel like I should go. I want my friends’ kids to know me when I’m hundreds or thousands of miles away, and I also long to be a staple in my new niece’s life tucked away in Iowa. I want to own my own story and not only be a fragment in other peoples’ as I drift in and out of their lives and I don’t really know what that looks like most days.

I want the space and comfort of my current place, but I long to finally own a home to call my own. I want a backyard and ample parking for guests, yet a piece of me thrives for the heart of the city and to return to the chaos of life in the midst of tall buildings and bustling people coming to and from endless bars and restaurants and the dreaded metered parking.  

I want more time with my parents but thrive in a different world from theirs, and after more than 20 years away, all I really know is nothing is home anymore.

I fit in countless places, yet my heart belongs nowhere, and I find a mixture of peace and comfort and longing and learning in each season life takes me through.

I want lasting love without endless compromise. I believe there’s no such thing as perfection in a partner, but I refuse to compromise or settle. I ache to be known and stop untangling my life from another’s when I realize we’ll never make good on the promises whispered when things were shiny and new.

I can imagine life with someone who fits all my complexities, but I desperately don’t want to download another dating app. I want to put myself out there and I want to stay home and fuss over decorating an apartment I know I’m only going to leave.

I want the safety and security and familiar faces of my current career, but wonder what I might ignite in this world if I was brave enough to dream of a better fit for my creativity and passions. It seems every corner of my life pulls me in opposing directions and yet I feel in my core I could thrive no matter what choice I make.

It is in these moments that I feel so lost when I reach out to friends, and they tell me I don’t have to have it all figured out today. They remind me I am free to wonder and sidestep and regret and embrace.

One day at a time, I find small ways forward. I make plans with friends and find my way back to wine nights and movie clubs. I celebrate birthdays with lifelong friends and find brief moments to travel to my hometown and snuggle my niece for a night. I begin fostering at an animal shelter and doing what I can to help other dogs waiting to be rescued.

And I slowly start to climb out of my grief.

I tell myself it’s okay if I stand still for a while and wonder. To take small steps if big ones don’t feel possible, and I give myself permission to not have it all figured out just yet.

I know eventually, maybe many years from now and maybe not that long at all; things will fall into place.

All I really need to do today is just continue to trust.

To love and embrace those all around me.

And to enjoy the journey as much as I can along the way.