On lessons learned

So yesterday I learned two lessons. While going through old papers in one of several drawers filled with old files  and old writing from high school and college (more on that later), I found a research paper I had written about marijuana. It was the most ridiculous paper I think I have ever written. Partly because of the content but also because of how I had written it. I actually interviewed people I knew and then placed their comments about marijuana in my paper under pseudonyms. I actually expected my teacher to be okay with this. Seriously? What I learned was that kids write stupid shit. And I just have to get over it. Year after year I get more fed up at the stupid shit I read. I often feel personally insulted when I read the stupid shit they write. Do you actually expect me to believe you wrote that? or Did you not learn ANYTHING in my class? So, next time I'm grading (not for another 8 weeks - at least!!) I just need to remind myself of all the stupid shit I wrote when I was 15. And remember that I teach 12-year-olds.

I also learned another valuable lesson. I really should get off my high horse when it comes to decluttering. Just yesterday I was thinking of how much better I am at throwing things away than Keith is. Too often, he'll stop me from throwing out things less for its usefulness and more for its sentimental value- no matter how useless the object. Sometimes he's the "I might need it later" kind of clutter keeper. And ever since I read Clutter's Last Stand I have been throwing things away left and right, so that our house - to my mind- is a bit less cluttered than it could be if I decided to keep all of my useless sentimental junk.

The problem is that I never actually finished reading the book.

So there I was in my small section of the office, going through my files and finding myself paralyzed when it came to throwing EVERYTHING away. I could not bring myself to do it. It's stuff I only ever look at every few years: old articles I've written, student literary magazines I was published in, oodles and oodles of poems, not to mention the literary magazines I self published in my really creative years after college.  I have a very hard time parting with my own writing. And I don't know why. I've published whatever I'm going to publish. It's not like I'm going to write a book of poetry anytime soon, or publish the short stories that only friends have read. So why am I keeping them? I am such a different person now. I care about different things, I write differently. Hell, I even think differently (to a degree).
One of my favorite writers, Natalie Goldberg, once said that she burned all of her old writing. Because really, what are we holding on to? It's not like I ever want to be that person again? I like who I have become.  I was once regretful, resentful, lonely, fearful. Now? I no longer regret. Having Cole allowed me to let go of lots of past resentments.  Having that much love in your heart doesn't allow room for many grudges. I haven't been lonely since I met Keith, and I shed my old fear more and more every day (although some of that is replaced with new ones - as a new mother I think this goes with the territory).  I realize that every decision I've made has led me down the path I was meant to go on. And for that I am so grateful.

So why am I still holding on to who I once was?

I'll leave you with one of the reasons why I know it's time to let go of my old (mostly depressed) self and embrace the woman I've become.

And here's the other...