How I say a meaningful goodbye

a year and a half of goodbyes taught me a lot

I’ve said a lot of goodbyes in the last 18 months.

I moved away from my favorite town and the one I had lived in for nearly a decade. My husband wrapped up his six years of academic training and I left my work in academia for self employment. My family moved out of my childhood home. My entire friend group moved away. My friends hit milestones that impacted our relationships. I could go on!

I am in transition again (more on this soon) and wanted to take some time to reflect on the rituals and things that helped me get through a roller coaster 18 months. I need the reminder!

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A lot that happened in my life the last year and a half were, objectively (thankfully), “Good”! Yes, some things were challenging: tears on the bathroom floor challenging. But, graduations are good, new jobs bring excitement, new cities open up new chapters. But still, change is tough. What really took me by surprise was the intensity of the change. The intensity made me feel jerked around by my goodbyes and hellos: high highs, low lows, and worst of all - a lot of change felt outside of my control.

When life feels out of control, many of us turn to coping skills that may have a negative impact on our well-being. This could look like getting out of a movement routine during a time of change, substance use to manage big emotions, a felt sense of needing to change/control food in a more intense way, or leaning on numbing behaviors to ride the wave of change (dissociating, “this doesn’t matter” energy, doomscrolling, etc.). I find the strategies below help me stay connected to the change in a way that makes them feel less overwhelming, so I can stay committed to routines and self-care that helps me feel my best.

Goodbyes are important to me. Nostalgia and big feelings run deep within me; I can turn melancholic almost instantly with a subtle remembering of what was, goals not achieved, or how things used to be. (in IFS language, we’d say I’m blended with a melancholic part - put simply, this part “borrows” my focus and attention to color my experience with the depth of nuance, longing, and sadness).

Many of us feel like our default setting is to resist change. I’ve learned how to lean into the resistant part of me and let them guide my goodbyes so I can feel closure, grounded in my life’s endings, and create a felt sense of a true goodbye.

joy and sadness can be a package deal when things are changing

Take it from a girl that needs goodbyes, here are some ideas of how to say goodbye:

these two songs came up on my playlist as I was writing and they felt really connected to this theme. 

1. Make the time to say goodbye

This feels like a no brainer but when you are moving house or tumbling through the end of a busy semester before graduation, it can be easy to simply miss the opportunity to say goodbye.

When I left my academic job last summer, I walked through the 1,200 square foot lab, pausing in each room. I closed my eyes and let the memories from each physical space capture my attention and fill up my mind. This space was one I was connected to as a student and a staff member; it was my first landing space in Athens and it was the last one I left, too.

Left office: my office in grad school. Right office: my first office as a staff member. The office I am in to take the photo: the final office I inhabited in 279 Dawson Hall

When my parents put my childhood home on the market, I rushed to book a flight (I ultimately rushed to book another one, too; one goodbye wasn’t enough). Once home, I tried to memorize the light in our living room. I sat in my room and imagined all the iterations of me that room held. The dollhouse I loved. The trundle bed I got too tall for. The laughs with friends; the teenage fears that paralyzed me; the hours of homework. I sorted through my first grade journals, chuckling at the foreshadowing: I have always been me, after all. I reviewed the first long story I ever wrote, Dream World from the 5th grade. I helped my dad leaf through his book collection, deciding which stories to take with him to his next home. I helped with a yard sale, whispering a thankful goodbye to our things as they found new homes.

In classic Florida fashion, I can barely keep my eyes open for a goodbye photo with my house

Throughout my teenage years, I would walk to this river to watch the sunset, feel my feelings, and have many main character moments. Every trip home since I moved away, I try to make it to a sunset. It became a joke with my parents, each of us guessing if it would be “a good one”.

The last morning I spent in the house with my parents, we found a way to say goodbye that felt right for us. Here are some ideas you could try…

• Leave your mark - carve your initials into a rock, leave a little penciled note in the bottom of a closet, hide a memory stone or marble in the garden outside.

• Touch the walls, stand in the threshold, mimic the posture you held during a crucial memory in your physical space

• Bless the next people that will be in the spot you are in right now

• If you are not in the physical space, imagine yourself there or look at photos to help jog your memories

• Let the memories roll through your mind like home videos, pause, replay, or skip until you feel a slowing of the memories

• Take a goodbye photo (see mine above)

• Express gratitude for the memories, physical space, and experiences you had there

2. Create Ritual

Take time to think about what would help you feel like you are truly saying goodbye. You might:

• Light candles to hold your memories, joys, and hopes - then blow out each candle once you’ve honored each one

• Write a letter to what you are saying goodbye to

• Say a prayer or use a spiritual practice to connect to your goodbye

• Have a farewell party, invite your friends and ask each to share a memory they hold dearly of your time together

• Sort through items you want to bring with you, or pick an item to represent the transition you are in (a smooth stone, piece of jewelry, song)

One thing I did that felt so loving towards my process of letting go was creating a playlist of songs that captured different moments of my life in my childhood home. Lucky for me, I occasionally lead an embodied dance class, which I featured the below playlist for my friends to dance along with me. They held space for me as I danced through each song and it was a gift I received with so much appreciation.

3. Savor the last moments

It feels so tender to know “This is the last time I’ll…”

I always make sure I have one final favorite coffee shop visit, or one more of my favorite restaurant meal. It is important to say goodbye to places that held you, welcomed you, or grounded you.

Over the last few months, sometimes I couldn’t let that phrase in (this is the last time); it felt too painful to imagine it as the last time. In lieu of witnessing the impact of the change (never being there again), I invited in all of my senses so I could really be there, and remember that moment. I offered myself: You can always come back, yes it will be different but it doesn’t have to be forever if you need it to not be forever.

This was my POV at the start of every walk. I will feel the ache of nostalgia my entire life for the view turning out of my childhood driveway, embarking on a walk in the neighborhood that made me who I am. I took a last walk. It was sad but it was important.

The ten years I lived in Georgia, this view over a bridge (+ one over the Caloosahatchee river) would signal I am nearly home after a 9 hour drive. I completed that drive at least 40 times, if not more, over the decade. In grad school, I would blast Sweet Disposition and put my windows down as I drove over the water. That water was the threshold into my hometown’s palm tree lined streets, homemade chocolate chip cookies, and hugs from my family. This is the last drive we made; I didn’t know it was a goodbye, but now I am happy for this photo.

I have many “core memories” lying on my driveway after a walk, bike ride, or rollerblade - staring up at the sky, the hot pavement cooking me through my sweaty shirt. I stared at the moon. I gazed at the clouds. I’d catch my breath. Those moments helped soothe me; they held me - the complicatedness of growing up, changing, and evolving. I was lucky to have the same backdrop against so many years in my life.

4. Archive your experience

As I am writing this essay, I am archiving some of my changes. Notably, this was not my intention - so thank you for reading.

By archive, I mean: create a way for you to be with your memories quietly. Express gratitude. Let yourself weep. Let yourself smile. Remember. Say good riddance. Create a piece of something tangible so you cannot forget. Hold this thing that was important; honor it.

This could be art, poetry, a collage, a letter, a list, a scrapbook, a playlist, an essay, a photo book.

Honor what it gave you. Honor what it took from you. Honor how it changed you.

The last movie we saw at Cine, our fav movie theater in Athens, was Tuesday with Julia Louis-Dreyfus, which coincidentally, is all about letting go and the pain of letting go.

I write more about goodbyes in this essay…

5. Notice if you’re holding on tightly

I am calling myself in, here.

My mind (i.e. parts of me) can conjure up such challenging feelings when saying goodbye to something meaningful to me. These parts don’t want change. They don’t feel excited about new things. They are scared of change!

This can lead to these parts of me holding on so tightly to what is about to change or what I am leaving behind. I can have a habit of not giving these parts space. A typical internal experience goes a little like this:

Scared part: “I don’t want to move! I love it here. What about what I want?”

Immediately(!) another, optimistic part will pop in: “Don’t worry it will be fine! We’re not too far and things will be smooth there.”

…from there, the optimistic part just keeps chattering. I lose touch with that scared part.

Effectively, what I have done here is (accidently) silence the parts of me that are scared. This likely means they’ll pop back in later, perhaps in a more intense way. Or I will feel this nagging sense of something pulling my energy downward. That sense is trying to get my attention.

I am practicing trying to notice when I silence parts of me that are resistant to change. Instead, I try to invite them in, help them sense my inner sense of calm curiosity, and just…let them be scared.

Usually, when I do this, they relax. They remember that *I* am not going anywhere, and I will always be there for them, no matter the changes life throws my way.

6. Remember “Friends for a reason, friends for a season, friends for a lifetime”

As a lover of friendship and community, it can be so challenging to charter change that disrupts friendships or your physical proximity to friendships.

I feel such sadness about friendships that I know will not be sustained amidst the change. The tether isn’t strong enough to withstand the change but that doesn’t mean I won’t mourn their presence in my life.

On the other side reside friendships that will try to withstand the change—the friendship will shift and bend to accomodate a new set of circumstances. This will feel sad; of course it will. But I’ve come to trust that the friendships meant to withstand change…will. I have felt surprise at some of my friendships that have fallen away due to change, and been delighted at the ones that cruised over the speed bump of changed circumstances. One is not better than the other; both are necessary in life.

One of the casualties of change is the way things were.

& this can feel electrifying, terrifying, devastating, inspriring, or a mixture of all of them.

Let yourself feel them and then, let yourself say goodbye.

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