The wisdom of staying
The discomfort of stillness in a culture that urges exit
This essay has been brewing inside of me since February, but in today’s climate, it feels more poignant than ever. I hope it offers you a moment of pause. If any part of it makes you uncomfortable, I encourage you to sit with that emotion and explore why. And on a deeper level—ask yourself: Are you leaving?
It’s so easy to leave at the first sign of discomfort, of disagreement, a red flag, a hint of incompatibility.
For most of my life, I’ve been the one to hit the eject button first. In college, I was dating a guy, who we’ll call R. We had a lot in common. R came from a wonderful family and his parents were still together. I grew close to his mom, a warm and elegant woman with a strong Brooklyn accent, consistently pedicured feet, and a charm that reminded me of the best Italian American hospitality—she’d always cook up a storm, sending us back to college with homemade cookies and treats.
One day, R called me. “My dad is leaving the family. He’s in love with his assistant. My mother is sobbing, begging him to stay, but my dad is done. I can’t believe this is happening.”
R was in shock. I held the phone as I heard him cry through the speaker, feeling an impending wave of disbelief, anxiety, and doom crash over me.
The only way I knew to cope with these really big feelings was to pull away. It felt instinctive, almost reflexive, as if putting emotional space between us would somehow shield me from the weight of his despair.
Simply put, it was too much for my 21-year-old heart. My boyfriend was devastated; his beloved family had fractured, and I just wasn’t there for him. I broke off our relationship within weeks.
I’ve made peace with leaving R during such a low point in his life, and I now understand that I wasn’t prepared for that level of commitment. However, for a long time, I carried a deep sense of shame and guilt for walking away when he needed me the most.
I’m glad to say that I’ve changed. Now, I’m much more comfortable standing witness to someone through life’s most uncomfortable moments. I’ve been there for both of my parents during the loss of their parents. It was one of the first times I felt like I could truly comfort my parents. I’ll never forget holding my mom after losing her mom, feeling a strange sense of knowing that one day, I would understand her pain when she passed.
And when it comes to romantic areas of my life, I can’t wait to be there for someone in their darkest days and support them through it all, in sickness and in health.
As I’ve grown and matured, I see the wisdom in staying. In relationships, friendships, jobs, and situations that are… difficult. Because that’s what I’ve come to understand: that all relationships, (especially the ones worth having), come with their difficult moments. Nothing is perfect all the time.
And that’s what we’re going to talk about today.
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