“How do you say good-bye?” was a question asked by a therapist to a fellow BPD blogger. The question hit me like the literal sack of bricks. The first person I truly remember having to say good-bye to was my grandmother. I couldn’t emotionally let go. And we weren’t even close – but I wanted to be.
Is that my biggest fear, hidden inside of abandonment, anger and sadness? What does saying good-bye mean? What’s GOOD about it? Loss, separation, transition, death, forever alone. When you say good-bye, what does it say about you? Do you no longer need or want that person? Have you “outgrown” them? Become more independent?
There’s so much wrapped up inside the title of this post that I’m struggling to understand. It makes me feel anxious to think about saying good-bye to people I may never see again, whether I want to see them or not. It reminds me of all that I’ve said good-bye to in the past, mostly due to death, that I wish “good-bye” had been “I’m always here with you.” And animals are as difficult as people.
I know this post is short, but it’s given me a lot to think about. If I keep on writing, I’ll end up recounting every death I fear; those that have happened and those that inevitably will happen because to live also means there will be death.
Let me know your thoughts.