Letting go
I recently let a relationship go.
Even though I knew, and felt it in my heart, that it was the right thing to do it was still hard. It still hurt to let go.
I was holding on because I didn’t want to lose any of the good parts, which were, SO good. I truly valued and appreciate the good parts and, honestly, some (most) of the good parts were things I hadn’t ever had or experienced before… so perhaps you can maybe start imagine how tough it was to realise, and then to acknowledge, that there were some “less good” parts going on too. They weren’t terrible by any means, I could happily have ignored them for years to come but I’ve played that game before and I know how it ends. Spoiler alert! It ends in frustration, resentment, tears, hurt and a long slow painful suffocation of the good parts until only a sad sorry empty shell is left. I knew I didn’t want that, the good parts were too precious to see them slowly strangled, suffocated and then to wither and die.
So I had to let go.
And boy did it hurt to come to that decision. It hurt even more to say the words and then to actually “do” the letting go. Strangely (or perhaps, not so strangely!) once I’d said the words and started the act of letting go the floods of tears stemmed, the pain in my heart lessened – I still cried, just not so suddenly and not so intensely it literally bought me to my knees.
I’m still learning that I can’t reach out and receive shiny new things if I’m holding onto something else already. Like having a fistful of colour pencils, if I’m not already holding the colour I want then I have to put the others down so I can pick up the one I do want.
I’m still learning that I can’t reach out and receive shiny new things I’m holding onto something else.
Just like having a fistful of colour pencils – If I’m not already holding the colour I want then I have to put the others down so that I can pick up the one I want.
Part of what held me back from letting go was fear. Fear that the other colour pencil, the next good thing, with even more of the “good parts” wouldn’t ever come along. What if these were the only colour pencils I’d ever have and I let them go just because they weren’t the “right ones” or the ones I “needed”? Couldn’t I just make do with what I already have and just have a picture that doesn’t quite look the way I wanted to?
I’m working on trusting that there are more colour pencils out there and with that I have to balance going the complete opposite end of the scale of “Throw all the pencils away, I don’t need them, I can make do with this perfectly good HB pencil, I don’t need any colours at all thank you very much” aka closing myself off – yes, that feels less risky and much safer BUT if I want to draw pretty colourful pictures I need the colours that I need and I have to trust that the colours, and my next relationship, are out there and that they will come into my life.
