A Sappy "Farewell"

My dad often accuses me of being too sappy in my blog posts.

Don't get me wrong; he's probably my biggest fan.

But he says, "Why do all of your posts seem to end with little tidbits that could make you misty?"

I like to write about things that make me sentimental, because if I'm being sentimental, then I've probably learned a lesson.

I've probably been forced to reflect on something that happened, in a way that I've changed, how much I've grown.

That's a lot more pensive than I think most people are.

In my yoga classes, I generally say something to the effect of, "If you're just aware of where your mind is wandering, or what parts of your body are tight and sore, or what your breath feels like, that's more than most people ever do. Even if you don't do anything with that knowledge, you are aware."

I like to be aware.

I'm a few days from thirty-three. Last year, I sent out thirty-two love notes to people in my life I felt needed to hear their value. Or maybe an apology. Or maybe just a memorable moment that would make them smile.

I recently took the Myers-Briggs personality type test and although I had had a few glasses of wine, and I have no recollection of my letters, I remember reading my summary of being a people-pleaser and putting others' happiness before mine and thinking "Bingo."

And really, I think I've always been this way.

I remember an incident in second grade where our class was too loud and we made the music teacher mad. And so our second grade teacher made us write notes of apology to the music teacher.

I can pretty much guarantee that I was not being any kind of loud, but in my note I said, "I would give my whole life away to tell you how sorry I am."

My teacher scoffed and said, "This seems rather dramatic," and dismissed me.

(We can save her ridiculous dismissal for another post.)

Well duh, it was dramatic, but I wanted to make sure that music teacher knew how sorry I was. She needed to know I was going to do what it took to make her happy.

There are some people who might argue, "If you are spending so much time making other people happy, how can you possibly be happy yourself?"

Valid.

But I am.

I'm not happy all the time. I'm human and have terrible days and right now I can't breathe out of my nose and I didn't sleep well and my nose is red and owie, and I just finished two hours of junior high lunch duty.

So I'm not comfortable. It hasn't been great.

But I'm happy. Content.

Bumps in the road never darken the whole journey.

I've found myself doing mindless activities lately and being suddenly overwhelmed with extreme gratitude for the people that I have in my life; and this gratitude is the deepest and warmest love--for friends and family, colleagues, and students who have come and gone over the years.

It's a feeling of gratitude for being loved and being able to love in return.

One of my students recently said that feeling loved is like a warm sweater and a hot cup of tea on a cold day.

Yes. That. All of that. So much that.

This is probably my last post here for awhile, as I begin this new blog project adventure, and so I wanted to offer this:

I am not always present. My light is sometimes dull. And my happiness can be clouded.

But when you practice these things--good, positive things--you attract them into your life.

Like begets like.

I offer up so much gratitude for the opportunity to share my words with you in this format; for allowing me to reflect and grow in such a public fashion; for letting our paths cross; for loving and being loved.

My heart is full.

Stay in the moment. Smile. Shine.

(Now go get your kleenex, Dad.)