21: The People You Leave Behind

There's something that happens when you start packing up a life.

Not just the weird Facebook Marketplace interactions and the trips to Goodwill — but the quieter inventory that happens in the background. The one where you start looking around at everything you've accumulated, not just the things, but the relationships, and asking yourself the same question you're asking about the furniture: Does this come with me?

I've been doing a bit of that lately.

Let me say the uncomfortable part first.

Life is short. I know that sounds like something you stitch on a pillow, but the older I get, the more visceral that truth becomes. It's not so abstract anymore. Time is a finite resource, and so is energy, and so is the emotional bandwidth required to show up fully for the people in your life.

I made a decision some time ago — not dramatically, not out of bitterness, but out of simple clarity — that I don't have time for one-way relationships. It doesn't matter who the person is. If I'm doing all the heavy lifting, if I'm the one always reaching out, always showing up, always investing while the other person simply receives without reciprocating — that's not a relationship. That's something else. That is its own quiet kind of drain and it’s a bit toxic to the one doing all the investing.

Now, I want to be careful here, because I don't mean this without nuance. I make room for seasons. Children need more than they can give back for years — that's not one-way, that's parenting. Friends going through a crisis, elderly parents who need care, anyone navigating a major life upheaval — we all need extra support at times, and I'm glad to give it. That's not what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about the chronic patterns. The relationships that have been one-directional for years, where the reciprocity never comes, where your investment is accepted but never matched. I've stopped apologizing for recognizing those patterns and gently, firmly stepping back from them. That's not selfishness. That's stewardship of the life I have left.

This move has worked on me like a filter.

When you're moving internationally and you can only take what matters, you get ruthlessly honest about what matters. I've applied that same lens to my relationships, and what I've found is that I'm not sad about it — I'm clarified by it.

The people I'm carrying with me into this next chapter? I know exactly who they are. They're not only the ones who showed up in these final weeks with intention but, who have been part of our lives for years and have shown up consistently. They’re the same ones who even now text us not to ask for something, but just to say I love you and I'm rooting for you.

Those people know who they are. And I hope they know what those gestures have meant to me.

Here's what I also know: some people won't visit.

We're going to be in Portugal, and we mean it when we say, “Come stay with us.” We will house you, feed you, take you to places that will make you wonder why you waited so long to come. We love to entertain. We are genuinely, enthusiastically excited about having people in our space.

All five of our kids — and their partners — want to come. That alone fills me up. There are friends and family members who have already started talking about trips, and I believe them. I'm excited for every single one of those visits.

But I'm also a realist. There are people who will say they'll come and won't. People who will mean it when they say it, and then life will get in the way, or it will just never quite happen. And I've made a kind of peace with that. Not a resigned peace — an intentional one. Because I'm not waiting to see who shows up before I start building.

I'm going to put myself out there.

I've been thinking about starting a men's group in the expat community — if one doesn't already exist. I'll be getting into a gym. I'll be taking Portuguese classes. I'll be doing the things that have always worked for me when I've had to build community from scratch: showing up consistently, being genuinely curious about people, and giving relationships the same energy I'd want back. I’m not going to lie, this can be a frustrating process but, it’s kind of like minding for diamonds.  You have to move a lot of dirt before you come across the gems. Finding those gems though?  That makes it worth it.

This is actually one of the things I'm most excited about — not just reuniting with people I already love, but the relationships I haven't met yet. The friends who are currently strangers, living in Portugal, doing their own version of this same reinvention. I believe those people are out there. I intend to find them.

So here's what I want to say to anyone standing at their own version of this edge:

You don't have to have it all figured out relationally before you go. You don't need everyone's blessing. You don't need to wait until every friendship feels resolved and every family member is fully at peace with your decision.

You can grieve who you're leaving and still go. You can love people across an ocean. You can let some relationships quietly settle into what they actually were, and still wish them well. And you can walk toward something new — something that fits who you're becoming — without that being a betrayal of anything that came before.

The people who are meant to be in your life will find a way to stay in it. That has been true every time I've made a big move, and I believe it will be true again.

We leave soon. I'm accepting all of it — the grief, the gratitude, the excitement, the uncertainty — and I'm going anyway.

You don’t have to make such a big change in your life to know that the quality of your relationships is everything for social monkeys like we humans are. I often say, “That which you allow - will continue.” So, I hope you allow positive relationships and distance yourself from those that don’t build you.

Have you ever had to leave people behind to move toward something better? What did you learn about which relationships were built to last? I'd love to hear from you in the comments.