Today was a hard day. The kind of day that hits you like a tonne of bricks and leaves you sitting with emotions you’ve been trying to avoid. I tend to process sadness by compartmentalising it—out of sight, out of mind. But today, there was no ignoring it.
Let me back up a bit. We have these two friends, Kat and Terry, and they’re not just friends—they’re our people. You know the kind of friends who know every little thing about you, who are there for all the good, bad, and in-between moments? That’s them. We’ve grown together, shared life’s happiest moments, and weathered the toughest storms. They’re the first people we call when we need to talk, when we need to celebrate, or when we just need to be reminded that everything is going to be okay.
We’ve talked endlessly with them about our move to Spain. They’ve been supportive every step of the way, and we know that they themselves are planning to move to Europe too—but not for another two years. Logically, that’s fine. Two years isn’t that long, right? But emotionally, it feels like an eternity.
Over the last two years, as we’ve prepped for this move, we’ve shared every bit of exciting progress with them. There were moments of “How are we going to do this without you?” and “It’s going to be so hard not seeing you all the time,” but for the most part, I’ve been able to handle it. Until today.
Today was the day it all came crashing down.
I was already feeling the weight of a stressful week—a week where burnout was creeping closer and closer. In the middle of all the chaos, I glanced at my calendar, counting the days, weeks, and months until we leave. Sixty days… that’s Eight weeks… that’s Two months. And that’s when it hit me. A wave of emotion rushed from my chest to my throat and out of my eyes.
What am I going to do without them? I know it’s 2024, and we have FaceTime, and staying in touch is easier than ever. But here’s the problem—Kat and I already talk daily on video calls. Even now, with constant digital connection, I still need to see the both of them on the weekends. It’s not like our friendship is something that’s limited to the weekends, and now those catch-ups will just be exchanged for video calls. I’m losing so much more than that.
As I sit here writing this, there’s a happiness in my heart knowing that they’re on the way to me. About 30 minutes ago, I reached out and told them what I was going through and how I was feeling. Although it makes me so happy to think that they’re dropping everything and headed toward me now, my heart is heavy at the realisation that two months from now, if I’m sitting there on my own feeling this exact way, they will no longer be just one call away.
My reward system has always been about working hard—really hard—and then enjoying the playtime that comes with spending time with them. When the work is done, they’re my reward. So, without them… what am I going to do?
I know this sounds dramatic, and I won’t argue that. I am dramatic—always have been. But this is how I feel. I can only measure my emotions against myself, and right now, the reality is that I’m worried. No matter what I say on the surface, deep down, I’m anxious. Of course, I believe our friendship will stand the test of time—I know it will. But those intrusive thoughts, the anxiety wrapped around it all, they’re hard to shake.
From the outside looking in, our friendship has always drawn attention. We’ve been labelled a cult, and Kat and I have even been jokingly called lesbians (and honestly, if that’s how people see us, I’m good with that). Because really, if your friendship doesn’t make people stop and question how close you are, is it even worth having? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being that close to someone, especially when they’re your chosen family.
We’re bonded in so many ways. Trauma-bonded, experience-bonded, nostalgia-bonded. We’re like penguins who mate for life, and while I wish I had a funny anecdote to lighten the mood, the truth is… there isn’t one. We’re about to go our separate ways, and it’s going to be devastating. It’s something you can’t really prepare for, no matter how hard you try.
So, to Kat and Terry: I love you forever. We love you forever. We can’t wait for the day you join us in Europe, and until then, please forgive my messy emotions and my inability to hold back this time. You are the loves of my life, and that’s unchangeable.
Adios!
Jasmine & Andrew
Well the cats out the bag now!!! Although my side kick, and work husband is leaving I'm so happy for you both. If I ever get to come visit Spain I will make sure I drop in!