Goodbye Is A Feeling

Saying goodbye to someone or something you love is never easy. But it happens all the time in life. It doesn’t mean the love is gone. It just means it has changed or morphed or outgrown a heart’s size for myriad reasons. And for now, I am saying goodbye to something I love.

It is with a heavy heart that I am closing The Nu Romantics’ Facebook group. It doesn’t mean The Nu Romantics are completely disappearing. Not now. Maybe not ever. But there are reasons why I no longer could put all my time into supporting a group at the expense of myself. It sounds selfish saying that out loud, but if there’s one thing I’ve been taught from writing—writing of ANY kind-- is that when we stop being honest, we have nothing to say that’s meaningful.

I put my heart and soul into creating a group for writers and readers to come to explore and grow in a safe place. It was a place I got to fulfill so many of my creative urges. For anyone who knows me, they’ll tell you, my mind rarely shuts down. There is a creative side to me that’s almost a monster, gnawing at me, sometimes so voraciously, I completely lose myself. I’m constantly stopping to takes notes of ideas, writing, creating…and sadly, second guessing. I think a lot of us are like that. I’m not the exception.

Without getting into too many details, I don’t think people realize the extent of work that goes into making a really successful group, and I’m not a half-assed person, about anything, a curse and a blessing. Some do realize it. Some joined us on the administration staff, only to realize how much work and dedication was required. At the expense of my own work and projects, I continuously put NuR first. Trying new things. Inventing new posts to engage people in an almost 1000-person group by its end.

But I found when it came time for reciprocation, it just wasn’t there in the way I always dreamed. We, and our incredibly industrious PAs, were sharing and making graphics for people across all social platforms and commenting and encouraging people’s writing daily. We published two anthologies with no monetary compensation up front—collecting, editing, creating covers, editing, making graphics, editing (have I said editing?), and promoting and promoting and promoting. But The NuR family often remained silent during these times and the support only seemed to consist of a handful of people who really seemed to care or support those endeavors or understand the time and effort that goes into such things. To those people who were always there supporting the people in the group, and there are many, you are always a part of me and my growth and everyone else. And I thank you. You have marked me in the best possible way for life.

That may sound bitter. It’s not. Please don’t take it that way. It’s a reality. NO ONE HAS MORE THAN 24 hours a day, that includes me and other admins. It’s not that people didn’t want to support (at least I hope so), it’s that none of us has that kind of time. We have lives. We have friends. We have families. We have lovers. We have full-time jobs. We write full-time too. A third full-time job? How? And yet, we admins were often expected to find time to support everyone all the time and when we didn’t, our inboxes would sometimes let us know.
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So after months of debating and fighting with myself, it was time to take a break. I want to be creative. I want time to write. I want to support others. I, too, want support. And so starts a new chapter of how to balance the idea of success with that of support, especially when I have new releases or takeovers, how to balance creativity and time, and how to balance expectations with reality. The state of affairs in the world right now, especially in the US, won’t allow me to live on some cloud in the sky anymore. There is shit to be done. Work to do. And until someone devises a way to make more than 24-hours in a day, the reallocation of priorities is mandatory. Goodbye isn’t a word. It’s a feeling. And sometimes, goodbye feels right, but it’s never without sadness.