I love my friends

This weekend in a nutshell: a friend driving hours through snow and sleet to come to my Christmas party. An unexpected gift of Christmas cheer in the mail. Messages of love unknowingly graffitied on my mirror in grease-pencil during my party. Conversations late into the night, breaking out old college yearbooks putting pieces of interconnectedness together.

These are my people. People who have shared my life and allowed me to share in theirs. People I've had tearful conversations with, left multiple marathon voice-mail messages for, people that I imagine will be part of my life in some way through it all.

Life is full when you're loved.

It has been so easy for me, in my past, to not allow that. By nature I've hidden inside my own reserved nature, never really allowing anyone in, never really allowing myself in others' lives.

But the past few years have seen a lot of that reservation melt away. I have more friends locally and globally who know me better than I was ever known in high-school or college. But it's a daily, conscious choice. I allow myself to be known and, in that, allow myself to be loved for who I truly am. That's the critical difference. I've always been surrounded by and loved by "friends." But they didn't know the real me and therefore couldn't love the real me. Recently I've brought those worlds closer and closer together.