March 4, 2015.
One of my favorite books, Paper Towns by John Green says, “It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.” I read this book back in the summer of 2014 and while I resonated with Green’s sentiments then, I’m not sure I fully understood them in light of transition until now. I’ve kind of always operated in alignment with Green’s claim. I’ve always feared change, until the change happens, and then I realize it wasn’t as bad as I’d made it out to be. Most recently I can attest to the validity of this in light of my disposition surrounding my leaving for Haiti back in January. The very last thing I wanted to do what leave the comfort of home for the discomfort of Blanchard, Haiti. You could tell in my hesitancy to leave my house that January morning and drive to Gordon that I was resisting this change, I was resisting the leaving. But once I arrived at Gordon shortly after I left, I was eager to go. I think this is how lot of life goes for me. I never want to leave Gordon at the end of a year, but once I’m home I’m happy. And three months later none of me wants to go back to Gordon, but once I’m here, I’m happy again. It’s crazy, really, the way my mind wants so badly to never go, but once I’m gone I reach a place of ultimate contentment, one that makes my new location the place I never want to leave.
One of my favorite books, Paper Towns by John Green says, “It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.” I read this book back in the summer of 2014 and while I resonated with Green’s sentiments then, I’m not sure I fully understood them in light of transition until now. I’ve kind of always operated in alignment with Green’s claim. I’ve always feared change, until the change happens, and then I realize it wasn’t as bad as I’d made it out to be. Most recently I can attest to the validity of this in light of my disposition surrounding my leaving for Haiti back in January. The very last thing I wanted to do what leave the comfort of home for the discomfort of Blanchard, Haiti. You could tell in my hesitancy to leave my house that January morning and drive to Gordon that I was resisting this change, I was resisting the leaving. But once I arrived at Gordon shortly after I left, I was eager to go. I think this is how lot of life goes for me. I never want to leave Gordon at the end of a year, but once I’m home I’m happy. And three months later none of me wants to go back to Gordon, but once I’m here, I’m happy again. It’s crazy, really, the way my mind wants so badly to never go, but once I’m gone I reach a place of ultimate contentment, one that makes my new location the place I never want to leave.
So in light of graduation I’m
wondering if this same rule will apply. Am I actually just stuck in a stage of
“pre-change” that’s worse than the change itself? Is the anticipation of the
end wearing on me more than the ending itself will? In all other instance,
though, I’ve never left a place for the last time. I know I’ll be back to
Haiti, and I’ve always known that when I leave Gordon in the spring I’ll be
back again in three months. Was it this knowledge that kept the ending for
crushing me? I don’t think that I’ll know for sure until it happens, though.
Which makes this pre-change stage all the worse.
Pre-change is a time to think
about and wrestle with all that lies ahead. Pre-change distorts your vision. For
now, I can’t see beyond the goodbyes I’ll have to say come May. I can’t see
beyond the little endings, the little lasts that will take place before I load
my car up for the last time and drive back to Connecticut. Pre-change blinds
you to the benefits that will surely come once the change has taken place.
Pre-change is a dwelling place, a time of suspension, of limbo, where you’re
mentally preparing for the next stage of life, while still physically occupying
this one. But how do you that? How do you coexist in the present and the
future? I suppose that’s where calming your anxieties come in, where you employ
Matthew 6:34. But how can you not think ahead at least a few beats? I’m not
sure I’ll ever figure this one out. But what I do know is that pre-change is a
hollow space where existence feels somehow distant, and disconnected. Pre-change
is a time of pondering and preparation; it is a dwelling place. But most of
all, pre-change, I’m coming to understand more and more, is often times a whole
lot worse than the change itself.
Fingers crossed I’m right.
[alc]
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