My feelings toward change are fluid. On one hand, I hate it. I resist it. I dig in my heels, close my eyes and ignore it whenever possible. I’ve spent a lot of my life in situations that were comfortable, but not great, because the thought of changing them was just too much. So, I maintained. Maintain, maintain, maintain the status quo! I’d say to myself. And that worked, I guess. I had a life plan set for myself, I had friends who were there for me, kind of, and a relationship that was comfortable, if less than perfect.
And then I got deployed. I was, for the first time ever, on my own. I was barely old enough to drink and then, all of a sudden, I was a grown up. An adult. Making great big decisions and living my life the way I wanted to instead of the way I thought I should.
Everything changed. I came back to a life I didn’t recognize. But, it was my life. It was a life I’d made tough decisions to create. I didn’t have a plan, for the first time in my adult life, and I felt more than a little shaky without the safety net of big plans for the future to pad me should I fall. But things fell into place. Andrew and I found an apartment, got married, got jobs, found a dog and made friends. And then I started to think, maybe change isn’t such a bad thing after all.
But now things are changing again. The faces in my once super-tight circle of friends are changing. People have left. Relationships have changed. And I’m struggling to figure out how I feel about it.
On one hand, I now know that change is necessary. I know that people change and that situations change and sometimes things that worked for a few years just up and stop working. I know that sometimes people unfriend you on Facebook, no matter how much you’ve done for them. I know that sometimes it’s all for the better.
But still. There’s a (small) part of me that wants to pout about all the change and force everyone to hug it out. Because it used to work, so why can’t it work now? Why can’t I just keep up this passive-aggressive snark? Why can’t we all just smile and nod at each other and pretend like Mr. Dumbass isn’t a Dumbass?
In the end I know the friendships that are ending, or that have already ended, were meant to end. They weren’t what I thought they were to begin with anyway, so my resistance toward their departure from my life is silly. I know I should be thankful for the people that I still have in my life. For the loyal alcoholic, always willing to take out my dog when I have to work late, or who will always, without a doubt, have my back. For the couple friends who never fail to make me laugh so hard it hurts. And for old friends coming back into my life. They’re more than enough, because they’re better than good.
questionable rationale 