I’ve spent an uncomfortable amount of time saying goodbye these last nine months.

All kinds of goodbyes, now that I think about it.

You know, like the inevitable goodbyes. The ones that, no matter how long you put them off, still always manage to come, and still always manage to hurt just as much – even when you know they’re for the best.

But also the unspoken goodbyes. The ones that creep up behind your back, neglecting to ever actually get that formal “goodbye” that we all so desperately hope for or that closure that we all so silently seek.

Even the, “I wish nothing but the best for you” goodbyes that sometimes don’t even get so much as a smile and a, “Hey, you too” in return.

So no, I’m not talking about the see-you-later, the talk-to-you-soon, the catch-you-on-the-flip-side kind of goodbyes. I’m talking about the real goodbyes – the ones that end up feeling a hell of a lot more like loss than they do closure.

So yeah, I guess you could say that during these last nine months, life has whispered, “Welcome to the final show” in my ear a few more times than I’m comfortable with – and for a few more people than I would have liked to see go.

And I certainly haven’t been wearing my best clothes each time it’s happened.

In fact, most of those times that I found myself saying goodbye, I also found myself wearing clothes that – if I’m being honest – didn’t actually fit at all.

These last nine months, I’ve been auditioning for life’s biggest and shiniest roles – the roles with the vibrant costumes and the photoshopped billboard attention and the characters who always seem to strike the perfect balance between hiding behind the curtain and standing right in the spotlight.

And then I sit back and wonder why I’m feeling so much loss. Why I’m feeling small and timid, and why I’m drowning in a costume that simply wasn’t made for me.

I sit back and wonder, why am I sitting here saying so many goodbyes? And why am I left merely feeling so many others that will never have the chance to voice themselves to my face?

I wish there would have been a less painful way for me to realize why I was never meant to be cast into those roles in the first place – that I didn’t have to come face-to-face with quite so many tender and heartbreaking goodbyes to make peace with all my small and timid pieces.

But as much as I wish those goodbyes didn’t have to happen – that I didn’t try for so long to fit into the wrong clothes or to mold myself into roles that weren’t made for me – I don’t.

You see, trying to fit into the wrong costume for the last nine months was a mistake. So was auditioning for all the big, sparkly, that’s-just-not-me roles. And yeah, mistakes hurt. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. And sometimes they mean goodbye – for better or for worse.

But the funny thing is, I think I needed to make those mistakes. As much as they suck, and as much as they pulled my heart in all the directions that I never wanted my heart to go, making those mistakes meant that, sure, maybe I don’t know exactly who I am yet – but at least I’m doing something to figure it out.

All that time – all those months that I was trying to fit into clothes that were too big and roles that were too loud – I was looking for comfort. I was looking for acceptance. I was looking for me. But in the end, what I found was something much better:

Honesty.

Not only with the people around me, but also with myself – with the story I want to write and the person I want to become. And if that means saying a few goodbyes along the way, then I’ll wait patiently for life to throw me a few hellos in their place.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t writing this with a bit of a tearful eye.

Because goodbyes are never easy, you know? Even when you know they’re for the best.

And it’s times like these that I still find myself stumbling, wondering, writing with peculiar angst in my journal the words, “Hey, God, when I said I could use a good cry, this isn’t what I meant.”

I’m sure God has heard those words before. And maybe they’re nothing more than a reflection of my forgetfulness – the forgetfulness that my own mistakes have more value than I might ever be able to fathom.

But it’s important to note that making mistakes doesn’t always have to mean saying goodbye. It’s important to note that everything in this life that’s right – the right people, the right moments, and the right memories – everything is timeless.

The right people will stand by your side each and every day, even when they know damn well that you’re trying to wear a costume that doesn’t fit.

The right moments will peek through the door and offer their most genuine and heartfelt hellos, even when they know you’re hurting from a painful history of goodbyes.

And the right memories? They will never get hung up on the mistakes that made them possible in the first place.

You see, I’ve come to learn that there is no such thing as the right people at the wrong time, the right moments with the wrong people, or the right memories in the wrong place. Everything that’s right is timeless – including mistakes. Yours, mine, and even that role whose character never seems to make any mistakes at all.

It’s important for me to hear that – and I wish someone had told me sooner.

So clearly, it’s taken a bit of rambling for me to decide that I’m still not a big fan of goodbyes. And there are more than a few “final shows” that life has welcomed me to during these last nine months that I wish I could take back – that I wish could have just one more sequel, even if I know it’s better that they won’t.

But you know what? It’s also taken that same bit of rambling for me to decide that, no, I wasn’t wearing my best clothes during each goodbye – but I’m okay with it.

So maybe I’m still looking for the right clothes – ones that will fit me without being too big or too loud, and that will hurt a little bit less when the sign of the times that life throws my way isn’t exactly the sign I was hoping for. Maybe I just haven’t found those clothes yet.

But until that happens, I think it’s okay not to stop my crying just yet – even when they tell me it’ll be alright, that the end is near, that things are pretty good from here. I think it’s okay to take a little while to learn, even when I’ve been here before. And even when goodbye feels permanent, when it feels a whole lot like, “We’ve gotta get away from here”, I think it’s still okay to be humbled by the elasticity of goodbyes – to meet each and every goodbye not with the perception of ending, but perhaps to meet them instead with, “We can meet again somewhere – somewhere far away from here.”