Growing up, the word ‘ending’ terrified me. I associated the word ending with pain, failure, disappointment and death. I would look at it as another kind of misery, another kind of trauma, another way of saying things were supposed to go perfectly right but ended up going terribly wrong.
And so I held on to everything to make sure it doesn’t end. To make sure I don’t say goodbye. To avoid another failure. To stop letting my friends and family down.
But I learned to look at endings inversely. I learned that endings don’t always mean failures, goodbyes or deaths. I learned that endings can sometimes open new doors for better beginnings and close old doors that weren’t going to lead us anywhere in the first place. They force us to find a new home, new friends, new lovers and they force us to restore ourselves.
I’m slowly learning to let things end when they should instead of wasting my time and energy trying to make broken things work.
I’m slowly learning to accept endings as a dear part of life instead of looking at them as failures or meltdowns.
I’m slowly learning to end things that are no longer working instead of poisoning myself by holding on to the toxicity of it all.
I’m slowly learning to let things end because some things are not meant to last forever. Some things only last for a little while. Some people are just here to teach us a lesson and then leave.
I’m slowly learning to let thing end because endings aren’t as terrifying as I thought. Endings are safe. Endings are cleansing. Endings are necessary.
I’m slowly learning to say goodbye to things and people I don’t want to say goodbye to because I need to make room in my life for better ones, for more loving ones, for the right ones.
I’m slowly learning to celebrate endings the same way I celebrate new beginnings because endings hold blessings too.
I’m slowly learning to let things end. I’m slowly learning that there’s so much freedom in endings. So much hope.