by Mary Elizabeth Goodell
Have you seen that meme? The one of Kim Kardashian crying? Make up smeared, hair mussed, and her face scrunched up in a whine? While the Kardashian look is often imitated, that image isn't one most people want to replicate. Even for someone as lovely as Kim, it's not a good look. But there I was, the night of my college senior banquet, doing the full on Kim Kardashian Kry alone in my car. My friends had all gone to the after party, but I had excused myself, saying that I was too tired. Really I had been trying to get out and be alone as quickly as possible, because my inner Kardashian was about to burst. Senior Banquet is supposed to be a little emotional. It's an entire evening dedicated to reflecting on the last four years. It makes sense that I would have been a little weepy as I reminisced. But it wasn't the nostalgic pictures of myself as a freshmen that set me off. It was something much much dumber than that. At the end of the evening, a group of my friends all gathered to take a picture. While I had made lots of sweet friends at school, this particular group had been my home base. My crew. My fam-bam. I had been through a lot with them and had prayed with and for them in some of the most exciting and heartbreaking times of my young adult life. They all clamored together to fit in the frame. The event had just ended and people were beginning to leave so they wanted to fit us all into one more memory before we left. I stood at the back of the room and watched. No one called my name. None of them invited me to join the picture. No one said "Wait! Where's Mary Elizabeth?" I'm pretty tall, and usually hard to miss in a crowd. Feeling invisible is not a familiar feeling and I hated it. There they were, all 11 of my dearest. And not one of them noticed I was gone. None of them missed me. Looking back, it was an innocent mistake. They'd all been standing near each other and got a photo. They never intended to exclude me. It was a spontaneous photo op and they didn't realize I wasn't there. They didn't mean to hurt me or leave me out. It was an accident. But something in me snapped like a twig. I remember feeling like a bowling ball had landed on my chest. I stood silently and felt all of the icky horrible feelings that hide under our skin like monsters under the bed. We hadn't even graduated, and they were forgetting me. It's like I wasn't there. If I wasn't in this photo, they would never remember I was here. I was already on the outside. Somehow, I just knew that they would all be looking at this photo for years to reminisce on their college years and that I would be erased from their memories. This was the beginning of the end. This was the moment I realized I was losing my friends and becoming mayor of lonely town. It was incredibly vain and selfish on my part. I could not have been more self centered about it. Of course they loved me and cared about our mutual experiences. But all the emotions of senior year and the impending mystery of life post-grad were looming and had me scared out of my senses. Literally. The intense sadness I felt was not logical. But I was so scared to graduate and disappear. It was like that scene in the final Harry Potter book, when Hermione erases herself from her parents memory and her image fades from all the family photos. Honestly, I felt like graduating was akin to..well...obscurity. I had been so known on campus. I was needed and seen and visible. I had spent the last four years establishing myself and grounding myself in community, and now all of that was being taken away from me. My friends had made me happy, and now it was Iike it had never happened and I would be alone. So, there I was, crying harder than that one time Kim lost her diamond earrings. So do you know what? I made a list of all the things that would be the same after I graduated. I got specific. I would still have the same clothes, I would still have my Apple Music free trial, all of my stuff would still go in the same purse. I could still make quesadillas when I was in a good mood and watch Seinfeld on my laptop. My stuffed giraffe could sit on my bed like before and I could take my poster of Audrey Hepburn with me into adulthood too. As I wrote that list, I tried to think of everything. But you may be noticing that I missed a biggie. It wasn't until I had been graduated for a few weeks that the truth kicked in. Obviously, Jesus Christ would still be Lord of my life. In high school, in college, in Chicago, and forever and ever, amen. I had cried over a selfie because I thought graduating meant losing my friends and that losing my friends meant losing my foundation. So much of my spiritual growth and emotional happiness had come from them, that I forgot exactly who it was that bolstered all of that. I am not going to lie to you, friend. It is hard to keep in touch after graduation. You may go months without hearing from people you once spoke to every day. But, it was never the friends who grounded me. And it was never the friends that saved me. It was never your friends that saved you. I had wonderful friends, I'm sure you had some good ones too. They loved me and pointed me to Jesus. The Lord had used them to grow me and sustain me and bless me. Which is precisely why separation from them was not cause for panic. They had been a vehicle, not the destination. The stability had always come from Christ, often via those sweet friendships. But Jesus, the giver of that joy, was coming with me to Chicago, just as He was going with them to Colorado and New York and Guatemala and Arkansas. So even if you ugly cry because you are losing the folks who make you happy- remember who brings you pure joy. Friends are a beautiful way the Lord demonstrates care for us. But remember that friends, the best friends, reflect Christ to you. And in seasons of rich community or anonymous loneliness, Jesus is the river that pours into us. In His timing, the Lord will bring new community to surround you, and many of those old pals will still be important, lifegiving people to you. But promise me that when you want to Kim Kry, you'll remember that you have not lost your true foundation.
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AuthorMay 22nd's post is from Mary Elizabeth Goodell. She lives in Ukrainian Village on the west side of Chicago and works for Hope Works Community Development. She is committed to working with and for the disenfranchised, particularly women who have experienced sexual exploitation and gender based violence.
BloggersWe'll post from a variety of voices of 20-somethings in the Windy City who are navigating life, work and relationships post-college. Archives
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