Closed Boxes and Sailed Ships

Long ago while going through my roughest break up ever, a friend told me that my ex would eventually come back but, when she did, 'the box would be closed'. It was his way of saying that time heals all. And it does. Slowly my feelings for her subsided and 'my box' officially closed. Oh, she never came back, but in time that ceased to matter to me. My friend could have used any analogy -  a closed door, a sailed ship, a burnt bridge (I think he used a box because we worked together in the receiving department of a large retailer). They all mean the same thing. Time passes and takes the hurt with it.

I have to say his words have helped add perspective several times over the years following unwanted or unexpected changes. I've learned to allow myself the sting, but I don't wallow in it. I push through it. I know that the sooner I can break the habit (a term a friend used just yesterday) of that person, place, or thing that is no longer with me, the sooner my box will close. And once that box is closed, I'm done. Over it. Healed. The pain and anxiety are no longer and I cease to care.

It's all a process, though I believe distance (which in the case of people is often provided for us if we just let things be) is the best way to break a 'habit'. It doesn't matter what that habit is - cigarettes, diet soda or a particular person - keeping it out of reach is the first step to success. 'Out of sight, out of mind' may seem trite, but it works.

Take the past two weeks, for example. I've been a little torn up over a change in a friendship. Where once this friend was demandingly present in my life, now she is mysteriously almost non-existent. I enjoyed her friendship so I fought the change and I most certainly didn't want to break the habit. The great thing, however, about changes that are made for us, is that we have no choice. Plus, I'm not one to force my will. So after a series of bullshit excuses and one word text messages, I settled in and settled down. People always hate it when I say that 'it's whatever', but in this case (as in most cases) it truly is whatever. I can't fight what I can't fight so I'm not going to.

The funny thing is that a week of distance and bullshit have given me great perspective. She and I worked out together last night, but I drove home thinking that it wasn't the be-all-end-all. Something had changed and I think that something was me. In other words, my box is closing. I'm not going to kid myself and say that it's CLOSED, but I'm confident that I'm getting there.

I don't think she knows what she's doing or what she's done. The next time she needs me (which used to happen quite often), I'm not going to jump as quickly if I even jump at all. I'm not saying that I won't be her friend, but I'm not going to be the friend I used to be. I have come to see our friendship for what it is - somewhat one sided. And that's ok. Friendships come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Knowing one from the other and tailoring our expectations are absolutely key.

I think I've got this one figured out. And that's why my box is closing. I knew it would from the get-go. I'm far from fragile and been through the fire a few too many times to let anything keep me down for too long. Especially something as minuscule as a flighty friendship that was probably never destined to be much of anything anyway.

I probably have too much faith in people. Oh well. My box may close, but that's not going to change. Faith is still one of the cornerstones of my being, even if it does lead to more hurt on occasion. I just don't know any other way to operate. And really, the box always closes and the ship always sails eventually. Time heals and in a way so does faith. Because with faith, there's always tomorrow.