One should be capable of crossing the threshold and leaving behind the house of past times.
Even though there may be loved ones inside, woes that you hold on to, people that you lost, or fond memories, you should be able to leave it.
A person should be light in weight to move forward in life. How far can you go with a heavy load on your shoulders? You should open the door and look behind you but still take that step toward a new life in this fresh home. You will not know what awaits you, but even though it is old, there’s a safe place in it. No matter how painful the memories are, no matter how broken you are, there is love in that house. Eventually, you will start to run from one room to another.
The house is big and there are ample supplies to survive on. One room is for business, another for family, another for entertainment, another for socializing, and one more for sadness. Going out onto the balcony, you watch the passersby, but you only see the best cars and the happiest couples, never looking at the lives undone, the ones that resemble yourself. Well, your own inner pain is so great after all. It is filled with books with agonizing content, always coveting the most elegant paths. You ask yourself why you’re not like that. If you would only talk, tell your story one time and shout it out from the balcony, you would understand that you are leading a similar life as well. You would understand how much you have in common and how similar you feel. You would understand that you might find the common consciousness and not be lonely. Yet being alone is the only thing that makes you feel different from others.
But your body is tired and your head is crammed. Voices ring through the house, so you take refuge in your room. Over time, even the house stops being a refuge. First you hide in your room and then in your bed. Gradually, you shut yourself down.
“This suffering is what makes me who I am,” you say to yourself.
“Those memories should live within me,” you say. You claim that they are all you have.
“How many times have I shattered myself, so this vase wouldn’t,” you say. “If I leave now, if I walk out of that door now, wouldn’t that be a waste of all this time? Would it not mean all those tears and all that pain I suffered was in vain? If I leave now, what will they do?”
“What would they do? What would they do?”
This is actually the question, the question of farewell. This is the question that keeps you from taking that step. This is the question that makes you position yourself as the savior. This is the question that makes you shut yourself down, pressure yourself, and limit yourself. If you do not exist, if you do not fight for someone, if you do not sacrifice yourself for something, it feels as if nothing can go right. This is the role you’ve cast yourself in, the role of hero. This role keeps you away from your life, though, so is it really yours? Have you merely imposed this responsibility upon yourself? Do you realize how much you exhaust yourself by talking responsibility for keeping everyone under control and saving them? Do you realize that your strength is slipping away? You may have problems and feel distressed, but these shouldn’t keep you from living your life.
You can say, “I have mad moments that follow me, and I experience distress, but I do not allow it to dominate me.”
Your body is carrying too many disappointments. You tried so many times and failed. Just as everything came into line, everything went topsy-turvy again. As it all built up, you felt lonely. But you were there for whoever felt bad, and if a helping hand was needed, it had to be your hand. You struggled and strived and burned up all your energy. The moment you needed energy, there was no one around. You were offended, so you shut yourself down. You show no one your confusion anymore, and you allow no one to notice your weakness, preferring instead to stay in your safe space.
Times went by, and the days and years passed. Your safe space shrank, your social circle narrowed, and your conversations became shorter. Now you’re looking for a way out, struggling to create a new space, because you now want to open that door and step outside. You want to bid farewell to your past, your memories, your past sufferings, every single limiting thought that accumulated in your subconscious, all your disappointments, all your failures, all your tears, everything you lost, every failed relationship, and all your fears.
It was all a part of you. Those four walls were a board you made notes on, and the ceiling was a sky that listened to you. You loved them all, you accepted them all, and you felt them all. But now you realize that farewell does not mean you lack love, that farewell is not disloyalty. A farewell to the past and a greeting to the future is a step toward the now.
A farewell to yourself is like saying “Hello” to yourself.

Yigit Penguen