Letting Go, Part 3.


This will be the final post to the now three-part series on letting go. (Part One, Part Two)

If I’m being honest, I feel hollow.

The only thing worse than not really having much of a relationship with your own father, is finding one in a father figure and then one day finding that you don’t have that, either.

These are very new, raw emotions that I have not yet taken the time to really process – so bear with me.

I’m also slightly frustrated that I’ve had severe writers block for weeks now & the moment I feel pain, I have a million words to spew. I don’t wish my creative source to flow from a place of pain, but it just does. My most popular posts were written on some of the hardest, most painful days of my life. Including this one.

There’s an aspect of letting go that we haven’t yet discussed; the actual act of letting go. The prying open of your hands. The dropping. The not looking back.

I already know that everything will be okay. I’ve had enough loss & disappointment in my life now to be able to look back and know, with certainty, that this will be just fine. I will be just fine. The ones that I love, immensely, that are involved in this hurt will also be just fine.

But that doesn’t make the right now any easier. The heat of the moment. Coming to the realization that this too, will be something that I now have to let go is very hard. To be very raw – I ugly cried the whole way home to write this to you. I have that all too familiar blankness in my belly. The lump in my throat. The heaviness behind my eyes like if I fell asleep right now, I’d sleep for days.

Because it’s not always the person that you have to let go of, or what they did or didn’t do – it’s the impact that they had on your life. The space that they took up in your life. Like I mentioned earlier, I have a little bit of a void in the daddy department. I have a dad. And he works just fine. But I’ve always wanted one that works like all of the dads I saw on TV growing up. Like the ones that my friends all had.

I’ve filled that void many times with many things, people, places & wine. But somehow it manages to re-open. Like a wound that refuses to heal. With the help of therapy, I’ve learned to accept that it’s not my fault. Which is how I was able to communicate 3/4 of my blog posts to you. Releasing guilt, resentment and shame is an essential step in letting go.

And this time is no different. But again – that doesn’t make the right now any easier.

There’s a certain mourning that has to take place no matter what it is that you’re letting go. No matter how bad it ended or how not right for you it was. When something exists and then exits your life, it simply makes you feel some type of way. Sometimes it’s joy, but then you find yourself mourning the time that you lost being so unhappy. Sometimes it’s sadness, and you find yourself mourning what was and what maybe now won’t be.

I don’t know where I was going with that, but right now I’m feeling the ladder. I feel very, very sad to lose what feels like the closest thing to the father energy that I personally need. I feel very sad to have to let go, knowing that their energy still exists in most of the fondest moments of my life that I hold very close to my heart.

Like I said before, I already know that everything will be okay. I know that when space is created in your life, it is filled with better, more sustainable things to hold onto. But that’s just the thing – maybe the art of letting go exists in not ever holding on too tight. As I sit here and think about the blessings that will fill the void of this loss, I cringe at ever having to let go again. I also cringe at holding back from holding on in fear that I’ll have to let go.

Is it true that the secret to letting go is to never have to?

I don’t think so.

I think pain is beautiful. I think we have to hurt each other – even when we don’t truly mean to. We inflict this thing called pain, we leave, we disappoint, we hurt – all to prove that love truly exists.

How blessed am I to have had an experience of love that makes letting go so hard?

How blessed am I to get to intertwine with a fatherly energy; the kind that looks after you, expects the best for you, answers the phone when you call. And just because it wasn’t forever doesn’t mean that it was a waste. That I should resent it or disregard the time all-together.

So often we experience something, it comes to an end and we… scrap it. Throw it out for the trash. Instead of counting it as joy. Adding it to our bank in the same way we do our fondest memories.

An experience is an experience, good or bad. It’s an intricate and precious part of your life that got you to where you are right now. And for that – you owe it to yourself to let go with grace.

You see – in order to live and feel and actually live and actually feel, you have to roll the dice. You have to let go of the monkey bar and grip onto the next one with dear life. And then you’ll have to let go of that one, finding another to grip to. It’s always going to be a gamble, but that’s what makes love so special. You can always lose it; at any moment. Under any circumstance.

And to tell you the truth, sometimes you don’t realize what love exists in your life until you come to the realization that it’s now time to let go of it. Almost as if only as you’re opening up your grip to let go, you’re all “oh wait, I want that love!”

Is it too late? To not let go?


Here’s a very important piece of advice: Just because something dies off in your life and you experience a loss, doesn’t mean that it is gone. The energy is still there. The possibility is still there. The love is still there. Don’t get so caught up in mourning the thing.¬†Every thing is but a vapor – the love you feel, the pain you feel is from the energy that you attracted. That can never truly leave. What’s yours will always come back to you. Especially… if it has already once been yours. Energies take the shape of people, places, things. So hold onto the energy and let go of the temporary thing.

With closure (I think),







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