Learning To Let Go

It’s been a year of learning to let go.  I’m getting better at it.  With each moment or event that gives me the opportunity – wanted or not – to let go, I’m becoming ever slightly more graceful, just a teeny bit more gracious.

 

As I rapidly approach the half century mark, I liken letting go to the changing of the seasons: the bright, flashy, needy summer of my youth – when having more meant wanting more, when I constantly burned with desire to own and to possess – is slowly giving way to the softer, easier, relaxing comfort of a cool autumn, where letting go brings simplicity, where happiness lies in embracing less, where all I really need is a crackling fire, a steaming cup of tea, a good book, and possibly someone wonderful with whom to curl up.

 

Of course, that’s fantasy.  Reality isn’t that simple, and neither is learning to let go.  But I’m trying.

 

This is the year I learned to let go of my marriage.  By all accounts, we had a decent marriage and much goodness sprang from it.  But within the inner sanctum of our marriage, the foundation had crumbled years ago.  By last year, the walls had begun to cave in.  When the roof began falling this year, we knew it was time to get out.  I’ve been fortunate.  David and I managed to emerge from our marriage as friends, if no longer partners.  We did this by recognizing that we needed to let go.

 

This is the year I learned to let go of the notion of immortality.  Now that I’m almost 50, my contemporaries are getting sick or even dying.  One friend, age 52, died from a punctured colon after getting his requisite colonoscopy.  Another friend, 48, received a dire diagnosis of Stage 3 cancer.  Another friend, 50, needs a biopsy because of cancer concerns.  Still another one, age 56, died suddenly of a heart attack.  All of this happened in the past two months.  I’ve learned that I am becoming perilously close to touching my own mortality; I am becoming increasingly at risk of losing those whom I love.

 

This is the year I finally learned to let go of my idealism; I learned I had to play the game.  I’ve always approached work believing that good work breeds good results; that hard work is eventually acknowledged.  This year, under a new regime, I’ve learned that diligence and hard work don’t matter nearly as much as the illusion of diligence and hard work.  So I’ve begun sending the big boss emails before and after hours, copying everyone on everything, fostering the impression that I’m working as hard as...well, as I’m actually working. Silly me, in the past, I’ve usually been too busy working to pretend I’m working.  But I’ve learned, at least for now, to let go of that crazy idea.

 

This is the year I learned to let go of an attachment I wanted to continue.  After David and I decided to part ways, I fell in love with someone else.  I’m sure, when I look back years from now, I’ll recognize that I simply fell head-over-heels into a cliché.  But at this moment, still smarting from rejection and loss, it feels real.  But he lost his love for me, and I had to let him go.  The letting go was not terribly graceful, but in the end, I managed to do it, walking away shakily.

 

The flip side to learning to let go, of course, is learning what to keep.  And that’s a harder lesson, and one best saved for another time.

Comments

[Holley]

Those are some great, thoughtful insights! My mother about 15 years older than you but recently expressed some of the same thoughts to me, esp. in respect to the passing of friends.

[www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1250158522]

Thank you! I think I veered from the original intent of the topic, but I have been just a teeny bit obssessed by all my life changes lately...