Things Left Behind

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The hardest thing about cleaning house is resisting the urge to keep that which would be best left behind.

How often do I throw something in the bin, then feel the immediate need to retrieve it the moment it leaves my grasp. This holds true with relationships as well. The constant go-no, please stay because I might need you feeling. Breaking the ties of an old friendship is like throwing away a part of me.

Realizing that not all relationships have a long shelf life is the sign of my maturity and pragmatism. This is particularly jarring when the friendship being put to bed exceeds several presidential election cycles. The idea of life-long friendships is a good one. I have enjoyed being able to turn to certain people and know they would be there as I have been there.

But what does it mean when those we turn to in a crisis are only good in a crisis? What does it mean when those that I can share pain with are at a loss in times of joy? When I have to temper my good news so as not to be blindsided by a friendly reminder of how bad the last good thing turned out to be. As an introvert, I’ve been very careful about friendships. How sad it is now to have to mourn something that actually died a long time ago. Particularly when I don’t feel like mourning.

Sometime you just have to throw the damn thing out.

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