Delicately Complex

Blog #8 - Monica Rae

July 15th, 2020

For close to 22 years I’ve been saying goodbye. Tears fall hard, wiping away makeup as my mouth quivers! I repeat this farewell montage as I hug my family goodbye. When my daughter was born the ‘welcomes’ were louder – balloons, posters, and shouts from across the airport making the strangers in our midst glance our way. There were two to hug … and two to cry over with each goodbye. You would think with all the years, with all the practice it would somehow get easier. It doesn’t.

It changes while it stays the same.

And when my daughter was younger, she would look at me in confusion. “Why are you making me feel this pain? Why do we have to keep saying goodbye?”

It’s delicately complex…

She knows this now.

So much of life is spent chasing the convenient, the expected. We want to avoid the pain, the saying goodbye.

Matching pillows from Target, kids ready in their Sunday best, working for a paycheck to build our collection of things. Within our American culture we have been trapped in tunnel vision—like a hamster wheel we are velcroed to, stuck in a race to keep up the facade of cookie cutter lifestyles that look a lot like ours.

But what about that neighbor who doesn't look the same? Or the relative that doesn’t share the same political views? The acquaintance who we whisper about—“Did you hear what she did?” How do we respond when someone we know does life differently than we do?

Ultimately, it’s our response to this diversity that is far more revealing than the style of furniture filling our home.

But…

I am guilty.

I am guilty of judgement, misunderstanding and unrealistic expectations. Guilty of chasing the 'expected' while afraid of ‘trying on’ what would make me stand out. And yet, as I continue to age, I am finding I am happiest when I surrender to the uncertainty, pivoting to the challenge of something new, even different.

It’s delicately complex…

I was fortunate to have a family around when I was a child—for every birthday, every milestone and celebration. The presence of grandparents and an extended family that filled houses with noise and food left boundless memories. So, it was a struggle to adjust to the reality of growing my child without that which was familiar to me readily available. Until that is, I discovered a truth I have handed down to my one and only.

Blood makes relatives—it ties them by genetics and valued tradition! But...a family...is made of the people you chose to welcome into it.

As I surrendered to life on the prairie—staying for different reasons at different times—I discovered an array of lives that changed mine.

My walls of conformity came tumbling down when my choices began to reflect my compass and curiosity instead of sticking to the path I thought was already laid out for me. There were whispers when I became an art model, and misconceptions when I decided to home school my daughter. And recently when I wrote a book about my personal journey there was silence when I revealed truths others wished I had not. I freely talk about taboo topics like religion, politics and sex and I do not shy away from being honest about my feelings. I am one of those messy farewell friends—because as much as I despise the word goodbye, I embrace the emotion completely. No stoic nature on my face—I run to embrace. Age has made my skin thicker (and a bit more wrinkled) but it has also shifted my sense of time revealing the truth—I want to be fully in the moment.

When I shake a hand and ask questions in wonder it is because I am fairly certain it’s worth my time to know someone. And the lives that fill my soul have stretched my understanding of what it means to be chosen.

Currently, I have two friends that are processing ‘goodbye.’

One must say goodbye to a familiar space and routine that has influenced her career and lifestyle for close to 14 years. A career pivot full of emotions and fear!

The other friend must say goodbye—to freedom.

It’s delicately complex…

Our choices affect our lives, curiosities enrich our souls. We hurt because we feel. And when you have a friend that has traded in their acquaintance status for permanence on your dance card it is instinct to feel their pain.

Regardless of how different their life looks from yours.

That picture filtered and posted has a backstory. That scar, that tattoo, that sketch. There is more to the story. We are quick to infer, to judge, to assume. Ultimately, the beauty of ‘the chosen’—the friend—lies not in needing to be the same color, religion, sexual orientation or even to understand another completely…It’s found when we choose to stay present even when a life looks different from our own.

This subtle shift in friendship—a trade off between power and popularity—exits the playground and shows up in our nakedness. The moments when our scars are revealed, a light is shined on our imperfections and we remain seated not out of obligation, but a delicately complex clarity … this person is welcome!

Laying in my bed, my mind is turning in circles.

I remember what my friend said, “…you are doing a great job, you are a great mom, do things that make you happy…”

Don’t say goodbye…I don’t want to cry.

But I will.

After the image of me fades…I’m wondering will they be ok?

The drum beat of lives entwined in mine. Some challenge me, others make me laugh. There are a few ready with a drink in hand or a chair where we can talk. There are some I've known for decades and others I met last month.

Time compiles a suitcase of memories that remain in their absence. And they are always welcome...My cup overflows…

DEDICATION: This blog is dedicated to my friend who must go somewhere for a while. And to the subtle moments and delicately complex people that make my life richer.