Taken by Ben Wicks, From Unsplash

Have you considered that you are just running from your problems? This is a question that I have heard a lot, much more so in the last 12 months.

If you have had the displeasure of having a conversation with me as of recent (in the recent 2.5 years, that is), it’s very likely you are aware I am planning to move to Melbourne. This is not a typical occurrence; it’s not a norm in our Australian culture to move out at 18, much less to move interstate just to study.

Upon discussing my choices with friends and peers and teachers and adults, I often hear a “I could never do that” sentiment echoed back to me. “I could never leave my family” or “I could never leave my friends,” and “I could never leave my pet[s]”. Most of the time these words are genuine assertations, just mere musings I prompted with my conversation. Other times, however rarely, these words are coated in bitterness, an accusatory tone. “How could you?”, I hear in their words – a subtext of “you must not care about anyone, you must not care about me.”

And, yes, for anyone wondering – I have considered that I am just running away from my problems. In fact, historically, this has been my coping mechanism of choice.

Because truth be told, if there was ever anyone versed in the art of saying goodbye – that person is me. I have said goodbyes to my family, to my friends, to my country, to schools, to houses (although my fifteen boxes stay with me), to friend groups, to best friends and to many, many versions of myself. Truth be told, sometimes I contemplate if I thrive on volatility – get bored of stability.

This doesn’t mean that I’m a heartless monster, unable to form connection. No goodbye I have ever said, whether temporary or forever, whether physical or emotional, hasn’t left its mark. Taught me a lesson and left a hollowness or led to a personal epiphany and forced me do something, change something. But every negative effect of change has eventually softened me, made me better and each positive effect completely and truly shaped me as a person. This is why I know I am not just running away from my problems. Maybe this is a part of it, but moving out so soon is something I have to do – something that will make me a better person, a part of something bigger than myself. The truth be told, I’m more of a ball of emotions at this point – incredibly scared, apprehensive, nervous about leaving my parents, my cat, my best friend and my life. And while these will all be goodbyes, even for a little while, they are worth it.

A goodbye isn’t always just to be feared. A goodbye is an opportunity to reflect upon the past, be grateful for all that has been and all that is to come. A goodbye can be a shove, or a soft push, into something new, something exciting.

And a hard goodbye is a testament that everything that came before the farewell was worth it. That it meant something.

As many Year 12s get ready to say their goodbyes and we all go through the motions of life, it’s incredibly important to realize and remember the heartbreaking beauty of the art of saying goodbye.