Finding Forty, Day 82; Manifest

I'm crying tonight.  Big whoop, right?  What else is new?   I swear I don't TRY to be this way.  My only guideline is that I write here, honestly and in the moment.

And in this moment, I'm crying.

I saw Kenya, my therapist, today for the last time.   I drove to her office, fraught with anticipation and hope, knowing this would be our final meeting.

I've lived far too many years, in far too many places to ever hold out hope that we might one day see each other again, especially in the context we see one another now.

As an aside, during my childhood, I never lived anywhere longer than 3 years.  3 years.   Just about enough time to move into a strange place, prepare the soil and plant the seeds, tend to that garden and just about begin to see the fruits of your labor.   And then YANK, suddenly you're pulled from your earth, your home and moved to the next locale.

I know how it feels to have a best friend, that one person with whom you can be yourself and not worry and then have to tell them a tearful goodbye because your dad has a better job somewhere else.  It hurts and it sucks.

But, if I'm being honest, in some of our moves, I was ready and willing to let go.   For whatever reason, a new start, in a new place, was exactly what I wanted.

Always, I was the one moving on.   I got to dictate the time line, the final goodbye.   Rarely, if ever, was I the one left behind.

That is, until this summer.

Twice now, within a span of 2 months, people that I cherish in my life, for whatever reason, have decided they need to move on.

In all honesty, I only take it personally with S.  I know Kenya's moving on has nothing to do with me.   Hell, S's might not either, if I was able to separate myself from him and his feelings.

Either way, I've had to say goodbye to two people who, whether I realized it or not, I genuinely cared about.

It's hard.   I won't lie.

With Kenya, I could be me.   Of course, I paid her to let me be that way, but that's beside the point.  It felt so good to be accepted wholly.    With S, I felt the same way. Until I didn't.   But I won't digress now.

I didn't cry during our session today.  I tried to grasp and hold onto every morsel of advice and wisdom she doled out, as if her words were my magical elixir, my saving grace.

Knowing that she was striking out on her own, to live her dreams manifest, made her look all the more beautiful and powerful to me.

When I told her I was happy for her and excited about her adventure, I meant every word I said.

I also knew that every pull and ache in my breaking heart was the real deal too.   

There is a gypsy within me.   How she chooses to come out, dance, be herself and live her charmed, magical life is yet to be seen.

I think she thought it might be through S.   But now she knows she was wrong.

What's next?  I'm not totally sure.

I just know I want to be there for her ride.