There's Always 'Good' in Goodbye

Everything that exists is in a constant state of flux. Things may seem to stay the same to the human eye, but on an atomic level, everything is always vibrating. Everything is always moving. Everything is always changing. Which makes it extremely ironic that change is one of the hardest things for a human being to do.

I'm on the brink of yet another major life change. I'm leaving Pittsburgh in seven days, and I'm... honestly a lot more in my feelings about it than I expected to be. I knew Pittsburgh wouldn't be my forever home when I moved here, so I intentionally did what I could not to put down roots or get attached in some other way. But despite not being attached to this place, the thought of leaving it—potentially forever—makes me a little emotional because of how impactful being here has been for me.

I came to Pittsburgh to heal. I arrived here in pretty bad shape—physically, mentally, and emotionally. I'd just gotten out of a relationship that was, in many ways, the most comfortable relationship I'd ever been in. But it was that very comfort—and the sense that it was leading me to decay—that ultimately pushed me out of it and into the unknown, down a snowy highway that led to Pittsburgh.

A year before that, I blew out my knee doing pistol squats, thinking I’d done permanent and irreversible damage. I never went to the doctor—because I’m a bit stubborn and I don’t like bad news—but I knew it was bad and honestly thought I’d never play sports on any kind of competitive level again. So it was poetic that one of my first encounters with people in Pittsburgh was on the basketball court. And it was destiny that when they asked me if I wanted to play, I said "yes" instead of the "no" that I'd usually told others out of fear of making my knee injury worse.

And just about every single week for the past year and a half, this group of guys and I have met up on Saturdays at 10 a.m. to play 3v3, 2v2, or even 1v1 basketball. It was the highlight of my week—every week. A brief respite from the mental and emotional chaos I was silently experiencing alone in my condo during the week. Truly, it’s been both physical and mental therapy. And these guys have been my therapists—not only by putting me through my paces on the court and forcing my knee to get stronger, but also by being reliable, consistent anchors who helped ground me in the physical world while I weathered an inward, intangible storm.

My knee is way better now—nearly 100% healed. And not only is it almost back to its original capacity, in many ways, it’s stronger than it’s ever been. I’ve regained that and managed to reignite my passion for playing basketball—my first love.

But my knee isn’t the only thing that has healed. I’ve also been healed of anxious attachment. I’ve been healed of addictions to external validation and codependency. I’ve been healed—not only of an addiction to porn—but also of the need for sex as a form of validation for my desirability or worthiness. And finally, I’ve been healed of worry—not because I know everything’s going to be “alright,” but because I’ve deeply internalized that I’m not in control of how things are going.

I could have never gotten here if I hadn’t said goodbye to my last relationship. Goodbye to my last home. Goodbye to my last job. Goodbye to my attachment to the past. Goodbye to my vision of the future. Goodbye to the Micheal who arrived here a year and a half ago.

Goodbyes are good—not because it’s easy to leave old friends and familiar places, because that’s not easy at all. But goodbyes are good because if nothing changed, nothing would happen. And since every human being is striving for their own highest good, every human being is subconsciously seeking endings with what is not fulfilling—because we know that the only way to have a fulfilling new beginning is through an ending.

There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that you’d be reading these words—or that I’d even be interested in writing them—had my mother’s life not ended. I always say it was the worst and best thing that ever happened for me. It changed my life for the better in ways I could have never imagined and would have never chosen. So much of who I am today, the good that’s in my life, and the good I’ve hopefully helped bring to the lives of others, is due to my mother’s life ending. And I deeply know that we have so much more good to bring.

So, endings are not our enemies. They could very well be the preface to some of the happiest days of our lives. But in order to reach those days, we have to be brave enough to walk away. We can only receive with open hands, so the first step to receiving anything other than what we have is to let go of what we’re clinging to.

I'm letting go of Pittsburgh—of pleasure, of pain, of preference, of pride, of people's perceptions. Letting go of attachment to plans—of the preconceived notion that my brain can plot the best path for my life. And I'm fully surrendering to whatever the Divine has in store for me.

I hate moving so much. Not changing locations—that part is fine, even exciting. But all the packing, discarding, and cleaning that lies ahead of me this week is not exciting at all, lol. Not to mention the almost nine hours I get to spend on the road afterward.

I'm headed down South for a spell. My grannie turned 91 this year, and she’s been having some health issues lately, so I’ve really been wanting to spend some quality time with her. After that, the plan is to head west. Like, very west 👀. But we all know how plans tend to go. The whole truth is, I don’t fully know where I’m headed. And I don’t really care. Because the version of Micheal who has grown up out of this Pitt is a version who can—and will—be happy and whole anywhere.

When I get more settled, I would really, really like to start having some sort of community event where those of us who'd like to meet and interact with each other, can. Maybe we start digitally and eventually it can evolve into some sort of retreat where we can meet in person? I expect newsletters to still be intermittent while I transition but I also anticipate that I'll have more mental bandwidth to create the other offerings I've been putting off for forever in the near future. I also will still be writing on Threads daily.

And of course, you can always email me at ms@michealsinclair.com if you want to have a quick chat between now and the next newsletter. It still blows my mind that some people (there are dozens now!) enjoy reading my thoughts and I really mean it when I say I'd love to hear your thoughts too.

With love,

Micheal Sinclair 💜