Sunday, December 24, 2006

Warning: Uncharacteristic sentimentality

It's true: I do have a sickly sweet, schmaltzy sentimental streak. I save silly romantic mementos, every picture my kids have ever drawn for me, and really dumb things like my fat jeans.

Christmastime always brings out my sentimental streak. Not for long, but it does briefly rear its emo head every year.

This year I'm thinking about my relationships and how much they've changed since last Christmas. There are people who have become as important to me as breathing in the past year. People who have helped me discover things about myself that I may otherwise have never known. People who have brought out emotions that I didn't know I could feel. People who have loved and protected me at my most fragile, but have had the love and integrity to put me in my place when I've needed it. People who have brought out the best in me. People I've grown to love and cherish.

Then there are people who no longer hold a great importance in my life. People who have disappointed me or whom I have disappointed. People who feel that I have changed too much to live within the parameters of the former relationship. People who I can no longer maintain a relationship with because of how much I know I have changed. People who have hurt me deeply for the first time, and people who have hurt me continually over the years, to the point where I can no longer love them. People who have brought out the worst in me. People who have drifted to the fringes of my life, or who have drifted away entirely.

The one constant in life is change, right? And I have learned that all change, even change for the better, brings at least a little pain and a sense of loss along with the joy and excitement of a new adventure.

This Christmas I am reflecting on the joy and excitement, but can't ignore the pain and loss on the flip side of the coin. Love and friendship can be bittersweet, but you can't savor the sweetness with abandon if you haven't known the ordeal of holding the bitter on your tongue for just a moment too long.

May this next year be one of love, passion, self-discovery, joy and fulfillment for each and every one of us.

Merry Christmas.

(Yeah, I can only do that about once a year. Maybe twice. If I get syrupy more often than that, please frickin' shoot me.)

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