I wasn’t sure about you when we first met. You were boisterous and confident. I was the exact opposite– quiet and shy. Yet you charmed me. I began to trust you and we fell in love.
You were my safe space. I could go to you and unload every burden. A week’s worth of stress would melt away as you patiently sat and listened. You didn’t complain about the weight. You merely smiled and said, “This is why I’m here for you.”
And even though you were the loud one at first, I soon overcame your volume with mine. You could hear my laugh from a mile away. I shouted while you whispered. I ran while you walked. I couldn’t help it. With you, I felt invincible.
But things weren’t perfect. You were hypocritical. You were exclusive. You had your flaws, but I also had mine. For a while all I could see were your flaws and nothing else. I asked you for space and you gave it to me. When I came back, I was hesitant, but you were so sure. Then I knew your flaws were what made you that much more beautiful. I wanted to stay and be imperfect together. I saw the potential laid out for us in His eyes. We could grow together and become stronger in our faith.
And oh, how we traveled. It still gives me chills to think about the sunsets in Cambodia and the strolls in the countryside in Korea. Everything was breathtaking and extremely hard at the same time. When I broke down crying, you held me. When I wanted to be alone, you stayed by my side. Those summers will forever remain my favorite memories in my life.
But then I changed. I smiled less. I snapped at you. I picked fights. You asked, “Aren’t you pushing yourself too much with three jobs?” I replied, “It’s fine.” I was in denial. I was struggling with depression and anxiety. I couldn’t admit it. I pushed you away. At first, you resisted. Eventually, you gave in. You texted less often. You stopped asking me what was wrong. You gave me space.
By spring, I was back to my normal self or so we thought. Everything that I had tucked away surfaced and wouldn’t conceal itself again. I had worked so hard to suppress it. All of our fights, disagreements, bitterness, resentment, and anger. I hid it, but it found me. It found us. You reared your head. I was stunned. Your true side was beginning to show.
So I left. I moved out. I told you that we should try again. You agreed.
We didn’t try. I was gone and you weren’t by my side anymore.
You initially reached out to me, but you weren’t consistent. You were only a city away, but it felt farther since you didn’t come here and I didn’t go there. I would see you pop up on social media so I had to block you. It hurt to see you so happy while I was so sad.
I grew bitter. What had happened to your promises? You wrote me notes saying that we should be together forever and that you loved me and that you couldn’t wait to see me grow and that you were so blessed to have met me. Were those just empty words?
And when we occasionally saw each other, you would shriek with joy, hug me tight, and let me go again. Why didn’t you hold on?
I guess I could’ve held on; but I was so exhausted. I had given you my all for the past two years, but when I was truly vulnerable with you, you weren’t there to support me. You were having fun with everyone else. You were at the beach celebrating a birthday that I still wonder if I should’ve missed. You were on missions in countries where I had dreamt of going since freshmen year. You weren’t here with me and I wasn’t there with you.
And I think both of us grew to accept that we weren’t together anymore.
When I was with you, I had been so happy that I let myself settle. I sank and sank and sank into the comfort without realizing that once I had sunk so low, I wouldn’t be able to get up without help. I had become so reliant and dependent on you that without you, I felt defeated. I felt unloved and unworthy.
You were my first love, FKBC. You were the first church to show me God’s love in a way that I had never experienced before. You took me in. I felt like a cherished sister and daughter. But when I left and pressed pause on our journey together, you didn’t pause with me. You kept going. And I knew I could catch up and things would go back to the way they were, but I knew going back meant I would sink into comfort. I didn’t want to sink. I wanted to grow.
I used to love you and am grateful that we met, but I think it’s time for me to move on. Thank you for the past few years. You built a strong foundation for me, but I’ll build the rest on my own.