Why Are We So Bad at Saying Goodbye?

Goodbyes are a universal constant—just like taxes, heartbreak playlists, and your mom’s ability to find something mildly embarrassing to shout across the grocery store. Yet, despite their inevitability, we’re comically bad at them. From the awkward hugs at an airport terminal to the protracted texts of “I guess this is it…?” that feel more like essays, ending something—be it a relationship, a conversation, or even a Zoom meeting—rarely comes naturally. Why is that?

As someone who has said a lifetime’s worth of goodbyes—having moved from Alexandria to Paris at ten, leaving one city (and culture) behind for another, then hopping across the Channel to London later in life—I’ve come to realize we’re all terrified of endings. But our fear of the final chapter says less about what we’re leaving behind and more about how we view ourselves moving forward. Pour yourself a cup of tea (or a cheeky glass of wine), and let’s unpack the art, mess, and necessity of goodbyes.

The Truth About Why We Struggle With Goodbyes

For all our purported sophistication as humans (we did build the Eiffel Tower, after all), we cling to the most primitive part of ourselves when it comes to farewells. Some of us avoid them altogether—ghosting instead of dirtying our hands with a proper goodbye. Others drag them out unnecessarily, as if turning the goodbye into a Broadway production might soften the blow. The truth is this: beginnings are thrilling, middles are comfortable, and endings? Endings are raw.

When I moved from Alexandria to Paris, I remember standing by our window on the last night in Egypt, watching the seeds of a tamarind tree flutter in the thick Alexandria air. “Take a good look,” my father had said, “when you say goodbye, you’re really saying: this was mine.”

He was right, of course. Goodbyes force us to confront what matters—or worse, what mattered. It’s not just the person, city, or phase of life we’re leaving. It’s the realization that we’ve been shaped by this chapter, and we can’t take all of it with us. This confrontation is terrifying because we know deep down it’s not about them; it’s about us.

The Many Flavors of Goodbyes

Just as no two people love alike, no two goodbyes are the same. Some are clean breaks, others are messier than a Parisian croissant’s crumbs on a white couch. Below are a few recognizable variations:

  • The Fade-Out Goodbye: Commonly seen in early breakups or friendships that have stretched themselves too thin. You slowly reply less, cancel plans more… and voila, the relationship dissolves as if it were never there. Bonus points for avoiding “closure” altogether! (Just kidding—closure is healthy. Call them. Or don’t. Who am I to judge?)

  • The Long Hug Goodbye: This one can be sweet or agonizing. There’s awkward squeezing, promises of “We’ll keep in touch,” and an unspoken mutual understanding that you’ll likely morph into Instagram acquaintances at best.

  • The Dramatic Meltdown Goodbye: Tears, hand wringing, audible sniffles—but hey, at least this one implies you care. (Looking at you, fellow crying-on-the-Tube enthusiasts. London’s commuters handle it like pros, though. Zero eye contact, zero judgment.)

  • The Ghost Goodbye: No announcement. Just a sudden disappearance into the void. Why wrestle with emotional goodbyes when you can go full Houdini?

Navigating the Toughest Kind of Goodbye: A Relationship Ending

Few goodbyes sting quite like the one where love walks out the door. When a relationship ends, it feels like saying goodbye not just to the other person but also to the version of yourself that existed with them. I once had a breakup so intense that I binge-ate pistachio eclairs for a week straight—an indulgent coping mechanism, but wildly unsustainable. (Pistachio éclairs, for anyone wondering, do not solve heartbreak.)

Surviving a breakup goodbye is about distinguishing the grief of losing them from the fear of starting over. Here’s a roadmap for handling the heartache:

  1. Tag Your Emotions, Pokémon Style: Is this sadness over losing the person, or is this anxiety about the uncertainty ahead? Label it. Knowing what you’re feeling helps diffuse some of the emotional overwhelm.

  2. Give the Goodbye Room to Breathe: Don’t rush to shove your feelings into a box labeled “I’m Fine, Thanks.” Endings deserve to be grieved. Eat the ice cream. Cry into your cat’s fur. Journal like you’re the 14-year-old protagonist of a YA novel.

  3. Reclaim What Was Yours: Remember that snippet my dad said years ago? This was mine. Take stock of what that relationship brought into your life—the lessons, the growth, the good memories—and give yourself permission to carry those with you, even if the person is not.

  4. Know When Goodbye Is a Gift: As humans, we often cling to comfort zones out of fear. But sometimes, goodbye is what clears the path for new beginnings. You, my friend, deserve beginnings.

The Beauty of Tying a Bow on It

It might be tempting to keep goodbyes messy—an open tab you never quite close. But a proper goodbye is an underrated art form. Leaving a job? Write a thank-you note to someone who made a difference. Ending a relationship? Speak from the heart (and no, “It’s not you, it’s me” doesn’t count). Wrapping things up with intention is an act of grace.

One of the most memorable goodbyes I’ve witnessed wasn’t even my own. It was a kind older man leaving his home in Istanbul. He kissed his hand, then placed it gently onto the doorframe he was leaving behind. Watching that quiet gesture, I realized something: a meaningful goodbye isn’t about cutting ties—it’s about leaving enough space to honor what was while making room for what’s next.

Goodbye Isn’t Once-and-for-All

Here’s the secret no one tells you: most goodbyes come in waves. You’ll think you’ve moved on—past the job you quit, the relationship you left, or the city you outgrew—only to stumble upon something that reminds you of it all over again. A song, a scent, a street that once held your heart.

But here’s the thing: those moments where it all comes rushing back? They’re proof you lived deeply, loved fully, and embraced your time in that chapter. And that, dear reader, is the whole point of this wild ride.

So, if you’re struggling to say goodbye right now—whether to a person, place, or part of yourself—know this: courage doesn’t mean loving the ending. Courage means trusting there’s life on the other side. And there always is.

Now, go live it.