I don't do "goodbyes" but "I'll see you soon"

Although we have only known each other closely for going on a year...my soul tells me otherwise.The last night with you for three whole years. I suppose it seems silly to feel so deeply about your leaving. It's good and right...so very right...and I'm excited for you and for the people that get to experience the nature of who you are.

I think that's the sad part for me-that I won't be there to go through your struggles/happiness/loneliness/growth. I admit that I am a bit jealous of the beautiful relationships you will make, how new people will be your strength and support, how others will get to enjoy you on a daily basis. I suppose I have gotten used to having you close. I have gotten used to the realness of your processes and struggles and passions. While I will get to read about them from time to time, your words will be articulated and precise, speaking of experiences and growth after all the emotion/rawness/loneliness/and insecurities have been edited out...but that's the part I love most about you...you are real.

You get me...my struggles with religion and men...my struggles with my parents and fighting depression and anxiety...you get me...and while we are different in many ways...you have always made that be okay...in fact, you have always made that good, bringing out differences that I may consider weaknesses but you admire... that has been so very important to me in my relationship with you

You have taught me more about the nature of Jesus than any other person I know. You have this brilliant way of explaining everything I believe to others, and they want to support you and send you away to tell others this belief. But ironically when i explain in to others, they question my faith and pray for my salvation... maybe because of the bitterness behind my voice...and the love behind yours.

Thank you for staying in all weekend to take care of me when I couldn't move from the bathroon floor for two days...for walking in during the middle of the night and early morning to make sure I was still breathing and to place your cold hand against my fevered forehead...yes, i was awake...and yes...it meant more than you know.

Thank you for crawling in my bed on nights that i cried myself to sleep over the past 9 months...thank you for gently speaking truth i wasn't ready to hear...for loving me through my neurotic behaviors. Thank you for waking me up, getting me moving, and reminding me that I am lovable and strong when I had no energy or motivation to make it through another day...for crying tears with me and speaking truth into my life so passionately that you would weep.

And thank you for sharing of yourself. For letting me see your pain...for making me apart of the process of your work in the States, grieving over your grandfather, the difficult decision of giving up your life here to follow your passion. It has been beautiful and I count it a privilege.

And thank you for your passion for the children in Sierra Leone. For the tears you wept over the last 7 months as your heart longed to live among them. I admire your dream. My heart longs to find that reckless passion for something...someday. "There must be a thousand things you would die for...I can hardly think of two"

And thank you for the last two nights. For late night talks and tears and laughing till we couldn't breath...for prayers lifted up over you by friends that you have so much blessed their lives.

And thank you for once again reading a random passage out of one of your favorite books, knowing that I would relate...that you know me that well...and seeing you struggle though it yourself as you sat beautifully at the end of my bed hoping it would touch me as much as it touched you.

I have never been more touched by written words. A part of my spirit healed hearing you read them. Thank you Stephanie. May your healing spirit touch many broken and hurting people...may God protect your mind and heart...may He grow you in ways unimaginable...and may you come back and sit with me for tea in three years while I soak in the wisdom and beauty of my soul mate friend.

Thank you for this passage...it has changed me, and so have you. I love you girl.
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At the beginning of my spiritual experiment, I didn't always have such faith in this internal voice of wisdom. I remember once reaching for my private notebook in a bitter fury of rage and sorrow, and scrawling a message to my inner voice-to my divine interior comfort-that took up an entire page of capital letters:

"I DO NOT FUCKING BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

After a moment, still breathing heavily, I felt a clear pinpoint of light ignite within me, and then I found myself writing this amused and ever-calm reply:

Who are you talking to , then?

I haven't doubted it's existence since. So tonight I reach for that voice again. What I write in my journal tonight is that I am weak and full of fear. I explain that Depression and Loneliness have shown up and I am scared they will never leave. I say that I don't want to take the drugs anymore but I am frightened I will have to. I'm terrified that I will never really pull my life together.

In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now-familiar presence. Offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled. This is what I find myself writing to myself on the page:

I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it---I will love you through that, as well. If you don't need the medication, I will love you, too. There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

Tonight, this strange interior gesture of friendship--the lending of a hand from me to myself when nobody else is around to offer solace---reminds me of something that happened to me once in New York City.

I walked into an office building one afternoon in a hurry, dashed into the waiting elevator. As I rushed in, I caught an unexpected glimpse of myself in a security mirror's reflection. In that moment my brain did an odd thing---it fired off this split-second message:

"Hey! You know her! That's a friend of yours!"

And I actually ran forward toward my own reflection with a smile, ready to welcome that girl whose name I had lost but whose face was so familiar. In a flash instant, of course, I realized my mistake and laughed in embarrassment at my almost doglike confusion over how a mirror works. But for some reason that incident comes to mind again tonight during my sadness and I find myself writing this comforting reminder at the bottom of the page:

Never forget that once upon a time, in a unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a friend.

~Eat Pray Love~Elizabeth Gilbert
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