A Slaughter Beach, Dog Appreciation Post or Something Much Deeper Than That? Why Is This Title So Long? It's Like the Title of a Fall Out Boy Song. I Quit.

I'm literally typing this 25 minutes before I have to head to class, so if this is the biggest literary disaster you've ever seen, I'm sorry, but there is my explanation.
Where do I start?! Sweet blog, I abandon you so much. And sweet humans who take the time to read my posts, I'm sorry I abandoned you. I'm listening to the band Slaughter Beach, Dog right now which, if you haven't checked them out before, you SHOULD. Their name may sound daunting, but trust me, their music is like a dreamy, indie rock day on the California beach while eating vanilla ice cream, until your mom calls you to come back home and you ride your sunny yellow bike back to your house in the suburbs. Specific, I know, but that's how I feel when I listen to them. (On another note, I was devastated when Jake Ewald's former band Modern Baseball broke up back in October, but this new band he has is literally just as good, so I'm not even sad! Life is beautiful!)
My only sole explanation for the hiatus I took, and the many other apologies for some other hiatus I took, is that life's big questions and answers and my questions with God are only answered through some time - through trekking through some long, gritty times. I stand by a few things still. A few of these are:
1. "Prepare to be surprised.": No one really has a solid plan of what their life will look like. We can only prepare to be surprised!
2. "Time is the great revelation.": Time really does heal all. It gives you time to think, gives you time to settle. It may also help us realize that we don't have all the time in the world, so live life while you can. (Cliche, but still.)
3. "Forgive others! Forgive yourself!": Forgiveness is truly a powerful tool. And when we utilize that, love has room to grow and we are able to better ourselves and help others better themselves. (Ugh! Helping other humans! My heart! My soul!) (I'm not that much of a hippie though, I promise.) (I do love humans though.)

My most recent one has taken me some TIME. And by time, I mean like watching an elementary school basketball game that you think will never end, or standing in line to ride a rollercoaster, or waiting through all the bad opening bands to get to the band you paid $50.63 to see.TIME. It was like waiting there saying, "Why do I still suffer? My life is in shambles." Okay, not that extreme, but it was excruciating in its own sense.
"Moving on."
(????) <------ my brain when I really started thinking about this.
Listen, trust me, I've listened to the Mat Kearney song a million times. Listen, trust me, I've lost friendships, I've lost romantic relationships. Listen, trust me, where is the glamorization in moving on??
I thought "moving on" was literally, like, the worst thing. I enjoyed my inner emo self that romanticized past times and lived a life of nostalgia. I truly did. I write better in sadness and bitterness. I almost enjoy reminiscing on times where I was happy with people I haven't talked to in years and then realizing they aren't in my life anymore and then writing about that. "What on earth?" You may ask. I have no explanation. I'm just insane. I like the mental pain or something.
This post is kind of an explanation to how I grudgingly walked away from the black hole of "moving on" to starting to dance towards the glittery gold letters that made up "moving on."
"Moving on" is a precious concept. I realized it was time for me to truly come to peace that some things will never be the same as they once were and that is okay. I had reoccurring dreams about exes and old friends where they were packing up and moving away and not telling me. I had a dream that I chased an ex around a grocery store and asked, "Wait no, it's okay! I just want to be your friend!" and he was literally running away from me. It was that bad. I've fantasized about running into old friends and being super successful and being straight up rude to them. I've fantasized about seeing old friends and being the warmest, nicest person and then they're flooded with guilt about hurting me.
This is all the truth. I'm sure you may be surprised that I'm saying all this when it was almost a year ago when I had written that I had forgiven all my old friends and people who have hurt me and was "moving on" from all that. The reality is that it's taken me a lot longer to do that than what I had originally expected. And that's just how it always is, isn't it?
I would consider myself a romantic. Not romantic in the sense that I've always dreamed about my wedding, dreamed about how I'd be proposed to, etc. I'm romantic in the sense that I LOVE when life feels like a movie. I like the cliches. I like pretending I'm in some magnificent coming-of-age film where I am the main, misunderstood, angsty character who happens to have some casually cool friends who are in some indie band. We all grow up in Oregon. We go see Death Cab for Cutie whenever they're in town. The point is, I'm romantic in the sense that I love people. I love community. I don't love romance. I didn't grow up loving to play "House" or thinking about my future boyfriend. I honestly didn't care about that. But, for as long as I can remember, I've loved people and I've loved it when people are happy, and I'll grudgingly admit, I kind of like drama. I like the ups and downs of relationships, no matter if they're platonic or romantic. Again! I like sitting around a bonfire with friends and imagining some Sea Wolf song is playing in the background! We are characters in a movie! The camera pans out and the credits roll! The viewer is left wondering, "Oh my goodness, what will happen to Hannah?" "What will happen to this relationship?" "What will happen to this situation?"
This is why I have trouble "moving on". In a way, I have cast all the people in my life a vital role in my movie and when a really close friend/boyfriend/whoever is rude to me/leaves me/hurts me, I'm genuinely hurt for a long time. I blame myself. I almost blame myself completely.
I also romanticize the pain I'm feeling and turn it into a turning point in my personal movie. I can thrive off the pain I'm feeling and when I look back on my life, that has gotten me through a lot. I tend to romanticize the heck out of the past, even if when I was presently living in it, it was horrible and depressing. I've romanticized my terrible freshman year of college and been like, "Eh, it wasn't that bad! I wonder how everyone is doing!" even though I made like one solid friend and was horribly depressed that year. I've looked back on bad friendships and thought, "Man, I should've done this better. I'm an idiot. That's why they left me. Those times back then were not so bad. They were the best friend." when in actuality, I was their stand-in therapist and they only hit me up when they needed to talk about problems they were having in their life.
I have a fear of abandonment. I really do. When I was little, I was a weird, quiet kid with social anxiety and had probably three friends up until high school. I've gotten to the point where I expect people who are important to me to just straight up leave me at some point. I almost rely on that. I've turned it into my crutch, rather than the ideal situation that maybe people will stay. I've gotten to the point where I almost enjoy it when someone stops talking to me. I like the mystery. I like the drama. But, at the end of the day, I always desire closure.
My life isn't completely depressing though! Those few friends I made in elementary school? They're still my best friends to this day. How many people can say their lifelong friends are friends they made when they were 6? My guess is not very many.
Recently, I've just had this realization. I have to let people walk away. Yes, they have physically left my life for like, three years now. Yes, it's been like 5 years since I've had a solid, non-small-talk conversation with that person. Yes, I haven't seen this person in over a year.
That's no one's fault. I know that people can leave me! If I am a bad influence in their life, then I want them to be happy. I want them to thrive. They can move on. The thing is, all this time, I couldn't fully "move on". I can let them move on. I can let them be happy. But, I can't allow myself to feel that for some reason. This is still something I'm working on. This isn't the glamorous ending scene to my film where the audience realizes I've "moved on" and everything is happy. This is reality. This is me saying, "Okay, well I'll struggle with this for a while, and even if I think I've won this, there'll still be times I struggle."
I've realized there is a hope! If I want a friend, I can be a friend. If I want connection, I can make connections. I can ask people about their lives. I can give. Kindness is one of the most underrated concepts in my opinion. Everyone these days is wanting to have a cause to fight for, is wanting complete individuality, is getting offended over the straight-up dumbest things ever. So what? Everything feels so divided right now. And maybe that's mirroring back into my life right now and making me feel like my personal relationships are in shambles. I don't know.
If you're reading this and if you're wanting to take anything away from this post, it's this: Be kind.
It's strange because I used to equate "moving on" with being cold and indifferent. It's not. Maybe it's all different for other people, but "moving on" is warm.
I can still think about my lost friendships from time-to-time. That is completely allowed. I can still be kind towards them. I can still miss them. But I know, eventually, my heart will move on. It's getting there even now. "Moving on" is a warm hug. It's honey and forgiveness and summer days. It's imagining my old room in my childhood home and visiting there every so often and carrying that memory with me. It's protection. I still have protection from the people who used to love me.
"Moving on" is forgiveness. "Moving on" is something so simple for others, and so complicated for others. "Moving on" is HOPE.
I used to see nothing good about "moving on". It felt like closure without the actual verbal closure of the other person saying, "Hannah, this is why I don't talk to you anymore. This is why I don't care about you anymore." It all felt dumb. It felt weak. It felt impossible.
I'm not alone. I mean, even though we all feel lonely at some point, the good news is, other people are out there feeling the same way! God has showed me that even though my fear of abandonment may always be an issue for me, I won't be alone. I have Him and He'll give me other people in my life to add to my personal movie, but even more importantly, to have in my actual real life, no matter how short that may be. He has given me a hope for the future. Every phase in my life is just that: a phase. "Moving on" feels like an exhale.
I can let go.
I can move on, and I will move on.
And at the end of the day, I'm just a junior in college sitting at my kitchen table in my apartment listening to Slaughter Beach, Dog. I'm excited about the summer. I'm excited about my sister's high school graduation. I'm excited about the Blind Pilot concert I'm seeing in May. I'm excited to see my friends when they come home for the summer. I inhale. I exhale.
And if anyone wants to talk, hit me up honestly. Whoever you are. (I promise I'm not horribly lonely, I just like talking to people). And also check out Slaughter Beach, Dog. Please. They are the literal best.
Okay, that's all.