I’m ending this blog.
When I started it, I felt unheard and misunderstood, and those feelings were heavy burdens I carried. After plenty of encouragement to write more, I hoped that “Such Is Life” would give me a platform to unburden myself, to say what I needed to say, and to make more public sense of my private experiences. I figured I had the scoop and just needed to let folks in on it.
Now, three years have passed, and I am embracing the notion that I’ve said enough for now, and there are two guiding thoughts that lead me to step away.
The first is this: learning never ends.
I’ve talked a lot about adulthood here, and becoming an adult does not mean learning stops. In fact, I’ve been unlearning and relearning, discovering more and more that there’s way more that I don’t know, recognizing that there is a lifetime of opportunity to learn.
Contrary to popular belief and common assumption, adulthood is not the finish line for development; it’s a checkpoint… a significant checkpoint, but not to be mistaken for the end.
For much of my life, I learned and/or believed that I would eventually “arrive.” I operated under the impression that it was only a matter of time until I would reach a point of being grown, of knowing enough about myself, life, etc.
Consequently, I’ve thought I would “arrive” once I got through high school—surviving the pubescent storms of adolescence was a major achievement. Then it was graduating college—I had my own income and was finally starting to feel grown for real. And then it was grad school, and so on.
Now, it has nothing to do with some formal, oppressive educational milestone that adds more letters behind my name and everything to do with paying off student loans, prioritizing intimate relationships, facilitating education on my terms, making a more equitable world, and enjoying my journey to 30 and beyond. Now, learning is part of my own process of liberation.
This leads me to the second guiding thought: intimacy is a top priority right now.
A newer friend of mine asked me several weeks ago, “who are your people?” and I found myself struggling to respond. I ended up describing a few close friends and continued on with the night, but that question has not left me. Admittedly, I’ve asked that question many times before, and it seems my attempts to answer now are insufficient.
Generally speaking, I have no shortage of wonderful people in my life. I can go down a very long list of people with whom I’ve connected intimately over the last decade or so, and I know that these are legitimate personal relationships that matter.
All of these close relationships though have been vulnerable to countless major life transitions that have lasting impact on what takes priority. People, myself included, have graduated, traveled near and far, moved (back), started and/or left a job (or more), met other people, got married and/or divorced, got kids and/or pets, lost loved ones (un)expectedly, and more.
Folks, we are all living our lives, and it makes me wonder: who are my people NO MATTER WHAT?
As I wrestle for that answer, I sense a need to preserve and nurture my intimate energy. I know its worth, and even in its infinity, I have limits with it. I recognize the value and sacrifice of authentically telling my story, and I cannot trivialize the necessary process of protecting it too.
I’ve offered myself intimately before to temporary relationships, organizations, and causes that I had believed were more permanent, and serious damage was done. Sharing myself with others is immeasurably meaningful for me, especially when I do so unconditionally, and I’m committed to discerning how I can do that with even more sincerity, prudence, and compassion.
That means knowing when to stop sharing.
I’ve backed away before from sharing here during past personal transitions, and I’ve returned when I’ve felt the release to share. At this point however, returning here is beginning to feel regressive. And in my journey for greater liberation, I refuse to shrink back when there’s so much to which I am looking forward.
I’m eager to deepen my opportunities for learning and my capacities for intimacy, and stepping away from this space is stepping towards that depth. Again, these are major parts that comprise the sum total of what liberation means to me.
For what it’s worth, I didn’t know what to expect when I started this blog, but I trusted that good would come, and I’m thankful that it has and thankful for the people that made this blog as life-bringing as it’s been.
Similarly, I’m trusting that more good will come with this timely end.
To more love and to more liberation…
Love Love Love,