This is the day everyone pauses to reflect on their year. And to try and figure out what they want to focus on in the coming year.
I just got off the phone with my friend Liane in Tyler. I told her that my statement and resolution for the new year was going to be “letting go.” She said I want you to get off this phone and go write that on your chalkboard. And so I did.
This very day in 2007, I started my first blog. Then there was another, a gardening blog, View From The Pines, and now there is this one. And I’ve added two more. I thought it rather fitting to start them about the same time of the first one six years ago.
I was in Tyler back then. I loved my neighbors, my pupsters, my gardens. But a big chunk was missing. A visible chunk. It was becoming clear to me that my marriage was falling apart. That there were lies and secrets I would need to finally deal with.
And so I sat down at my computer and and began to write that first blog. It was the beginning of something wonderful in my life. Opportunities and friends I would never have met otherwise. And I am so grateful that I had the presence of mind to sit down and write that first word.
This is the year I’m going to focus more on writing. On this blog and other avenues. This is the year I am going to try to find a way to change my life in many ways. I am hoping an opportunity will present itself. But if not, it will just have to wait a little longer.
This is the year that I am letting go.
Of relationships that are so strained that I can no longer put hope in them. As long as you have a flicker of a flame, you still hope. I have blown that candle out. I am letting go.
Of the dreams I had when I moved here. Just over two years ago. Before things seemed to fall apart, and before I got hurt. You truly find out who loves you when you’re hurt and can’t do much for yourself. That’s when it becomes readily apparent and you can no longer deny it.
Sometimes hope and love is just an illusion. A fleeting shadow, that, when the sun moves a bit throughout the day, the shadow will move with it until it has disappeared.
Letting go is kind of like saying goodbye. To fences you can’t mend. To people you can’t get through to. To love that smolders until it is ashes.
I know this much. I am much stronger than I ever thought. Because the events of the last three years would, at one point in time, have done me in.
I’m still standing. I’m still taking photos and writing. And I’m going to follow my heart wherever it takes me, as money allows. The pupsters and I. My little family.
I’m letting go of what has become abundantly clear to me is already gone. So I’m giving up the ghost. I’m moving on. Hopefully literally, and certainly figuratively.
Letting go. It’s for the best. An emancipation of sorts.
I must already be making progress. Because I got all the way through writing this without a tear.