If I were writing this in my Bad Old Days, I would have gone on and on about all the people, friendships, and places that I have lost. I used to pull out my bag of sorrows and sift through the items, rolling them around like marbles in my fingers, mourning each one.
These days, the things I have lost are things I am happy to have said goodbye to.
I have lost my need to mourn.
I have lost the habit of obsessing. Poor Husband used to have to listen to entire days' worth of conversations ("...and then she said to me...") wherein my precious feelings had been hurt.
I have lost the need for the approval of everyone within five thousand square miles. Not surprisingly, I feel more accepted than I ever did when I was trying to please the driver behind me, the woman choosing her romaine lettuce next to me, the telemarketer on the phone...
I have lost the illusion that I am in control of much of anything. I do what I can and leave the rest to my Higher Power, knowing that everything works out pretty much the way it is supposed to.
Perhaps I shouldn't say I've truly lost all those things. Some of them require daily vigilance and forgiving self-examination to make them stay gone.
Kris Kristofferson wrote, in Me and Bobby McGee: "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." I have plenty of loved ones that I would not care to lose, but things...?
What I have gained in place of all those lost things is freedom, and the trade is more than fair.