On letting go of things that no longer fit

I quote this, not as a vague comment on my relationship (We’re happy, thank you for asking), but of life in general. As part of the *new year* the girls in the house decided to clean their closets for things to give away, and it hit me how my philosophy in getting rid of the clothes in my space now parallels how I relate to the people in my life. It was simple, if I can no longer see myself ever fitting in it, or I can no longer see myself in it even if it did, I’ll let it go (cue Elsa in the ice gown).

I got rid of about a third of my things. I heard that a lot of the things that no longer fit went to a younger, very skinny cousin that lives down the street, and the rest, mom will distribute to where she sees it fit to go.
I’m turning thirty (GASP!) this year and I have to accept that even though you feel a certain fondness for things and people, there comes a time to let go when it just doesn’t fit anymore. No matter how much you try, too much time has passed, too many things have been missed. There are too many hurts that leave scars that in its wake, people stop caring about each other.

Wait. I’m not talking about clothes anymore am I?

Yes. People. Friends, in fact. They fall away, and move on without you. That happens when you grow apart, find new friends, find yourself a whole different person from the one they knew. And it’s not one person’s fault, (I hope) as friendships, like relationships are a two way street. When they reach out to you, ask you to lunch, or dinner, or a party, and you find yourself refusing for one reason or another, too many invitations later, you’re not part of the invite anymore. You feel hurt. You forget that you’ve been asked so many times and said no so many times, they’ve gotten tired of your excuses.

When you try and keep in touch after such a long time you forget who they are, or not know them anymore because you didn’t make the effort to do so in the months or years you were away. They’ve moved on and become busy with their careers, families, significant others, that you lose commonalities, or even things to talk about. Conversations become stunted, awkward, and you can’t wait for the one dinner you show up to, to end.

I guess I’m writing this as a love letter to the friends I’ve let go of, and those who will move on from my life in the future. For one reason or another, you’ve all helped shape who I am, whether to push me to become stronger because of misunderstandings and pain that have been shared, or through your positivity and generosity. It sounds cheesy, but I wish you all the joy and happiness that you truly deserve in life, and even if we are no longer in each other’s presences, know I am ecstatic for your accomplishments and weep with you in your disappointments.

What (or who) are you letting go of this year?