The Shedding of My Skin

That’s the last I remember: the blood-stained hair waving from the tree limb like a ribbon, my red Coach purse on the boulder, my leather gloves crumpled next to it, like the discarded skin of a snake.


~~ Jeffe Kennedy
      Obsidian

I’ve always been rather fascinated with the skin shedding aspects of snakes. Or any animal, really. Lots of symbolism mixed in there, making it rather appropriate for the last post of the year.

The end of the year is always somewhat melancholy for me. Maybe it’s just those long moment of introspection that make me take a long hard look at the past twelve months, wondering if I’ve managed to outgrow the mistakes I’ve made or if I’m ready for the challenges ahead.

Maybe I’m just sentimental bastard.

The truth of it is, I’ve had a Very Good Year, full of Very Good Things.
 I finished my first novel, won some contests, got an agent. The muse is alive and kicking and my head is full of words.
I rediscovered a number of old friends and old loves – some by mistake, some by accident, some very much on purpose. None regretted.
I met  a ton of people – online, at conventions, via Facebook and Twitter, on forums and mailing lists. Yes, some are still a faceless blur, but so many aren’t. It’s been wonderful to find so many others who *understand*.
I had spinal surgery, which rid me of a great deal of pain. I’m not angry anymore.
I got rid of the excess baggage, dropped the deadwood out of my life, and removed myself from some very toxic situations.
In the spirit of things, today I spent a very long time going through my closet. It’s probably been years since I really thought about what’s in there – I made a toss pile and a donate pile and a keep pile. At the moment, the donate pile is rather massive. So many things I have no interest in holding onto.
Some of them are just too big. Since I lost the extra weight, I suppose I can’t really justify  keeping them, even though they’re in good shape. Better to let someone else wear them that just have them rot away in my closet.

Some things aren’t my style at all. Gifts from family or friends, or things bought on a whim that just didn’t look as good as they were supposed to. In either case, there’s no point in hanging onto them.

Some I don’t need anymore. Very sad to see that pile of forgotten maternity shirts in the corner. I suppose it’s possible that we might have another child, but it’s not something I want right now. (And the irony of it is that it’s a sure bet that if I drop them off at Good Will, I’ll probably be knocked up by…oh, next week.)

And some, I’m hanging onto anyway, just because I can.

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