Everyone’s saying it: “Wow! I can’t believe 2007 is nearly here!” When I hear this, I always find myself vigorously nodding my head in agreement, marveling at the speed with which 2006 has passed us by. It seems like only yesterday I was readying myself for a faux-millenium (read: 2000) party in my Philly living room. But no! It doesn’t. I’m lying to myself; I’m letting the holiday season sweep me up and force its clichés on me. Because 2006 didn’t go by quickly. It was a long, hard year, full of change.

I’ve been participating in an archaeological dig recently. Packing up my things — trashing most, giving away some, and storing others — has forced me to go through every, single item that I own. One of those items is a journal. [Carbon dating places it circa 2005-2006.] It is an artifact of my past: a remnant of 2005’s New Year’s resolutions and one that, like most such promises, was broken very shortly after it was made. I had resolved to keep a journal in 2006, one that would chronicle my ups and downs, my triumphs and failures, and, most of all, my feelings, thoughts, and emotions. I made that resolution because 2005 had been such a difficult year for me, one which I never wanted to forget, but certainly did not care to repeat. I had a lot to think about and even more I needed to work through. I hoped a journal would help me do just that.

But journaling doesn’t work for me. I can’t write to myself; I’d much rather sit quietly with a mug of tea and think about things. Writing takes so much effort. In the time I could write a page in my journal, I could work through three times as much material in my head. I needed some sort of external motivation: something to make me want to write. And then I discovered blogging. I honestly had never even read a blog before… it took me a few weeks to really get a handle on what they were. But when I did, a light bulb went off in my head and I felt that blogging could be the escape — the catharsis — for which I so hungered.

Gringuitica has been my online journal. Her archives are my soul, my heart. I read my words, and though they lack some of the intimate details a journal might include, I know everything I thought as I wrote each entry. I remember my laughter and my tears, my anger and my joy. I remember 2006.

We always hear about crossroads: times in our lives when we are confronted by decisions so big that our choice will forever change the course of our lives. I made such a decision towards the end of 2005. At the time, I didn’t know how much it would change me. I had thought myself to be adult then, and my personal definition of an adult meant that I wouldn’t be making any more rewrites to my basic programming (geek moment: basically, I thought I was out of beta). I was wrong.

On the outside, I’m different. I’m smaller, I smile more, my resumé is longer. I have a blog, I’m moving to another country, I’m legally single. But if you sliced me open, you’d see a whole lot more that’s different. I know that, in part, I’m the same Erin I always was. But 2006 has forced me to realize more about who I am and what I want, and I’ve grown. It’s been a long, hard path and, to be honest, I don’t think I can bear to have so much self-growth in 2007. Change is good, but oh God, is it hard.

So here’s me, wishing you a Happy New Year. And here I also am, asking 2007 to be kind to us. May it bring joy and peace to our worlds. And if it must bring change, as it always does, may it be gentle. Because this girl could really use some recovery time.