Letting Go
What do I need to let go of?
“30 is a big age. It means we gotta start popping out kids and being adults”
The majority of my friend group from childhood is turning 30 this year, leading to many conversations around the topic of getting older and “feeling our age”.
Research and anecdotal evidence tells me that we get happier as we age. While our demeanor may speak differently, our internal dialogues and self-awareness tend to improve.
I’d like to say mine have. I’ve been lucky to this point. I get to see my parents consistently, as they live in the next town over. My love life has resulted in a partner that I truly love and care about. I can feel their love and support of me every day as well. I’ve enjoyed career success, working in professional sports and starting my own business over the last year. Two of my best friends in the world are getting married this Spring and I’m planning to share in their special days within a week of each other.
I’ve enjoyed good health (despite a few dances with COVID) and feel more secure in my own body than I’ve ever felt in the past. Looking at all this, it’s easy to think about just how lucky I’ve been.
When asked the question, “what do I need to let go of?” I hesitate. Loss aversion is a real thing. I already have so much, why would I change anything? Change feels like a risk. It feels like something that doesn’t need to happen.
That’s one thing to let go of right there.
Ignorance is bliss. The majority of people who deal with mental health challenges are incredibly intelligent. The more we know can lead to the more we fear. Spending the majority of my life as a “sunshine and rainbows” kid has led me to enjoy life’s blissful ignorance far more than many I know and love.
Ignorance is what makes this question so difficult. Knowing what I need to let go of is difficult without stepping away from the day-to-day to really assess what’s going on. Life’s beauty and horror can fog up my windshield to the point of never seeing what’s really in front of me until I feel it bouncing underneath my wheels.
Maybe it’s the pace. The speed at which I move about life. Those who know me well know that I am horrifically late for most of my life. This is not because I don’t care where I’m going, it’s because from when I wake up in the morning to when I go to sleep at night, I feel an endless urge to “do”. What have I done? What am I doing? What am I going to do?
We all know the person who warms up their car after a winter snowstorm, scrapes off a six inch circle of snow and ice so they can see out the windshield and proceeds to drive away peering through that tiny gap, waiting for the defroster to start working. They don’t have time to wait and they certainly don’t have time to scrape the whole car off. This leads to their car spewing snow and ice all over the road and into the paths of cars around them.
I’ve done this. It doesn’t feel safe and it certainly doesn’t help my own mental or physical state. That pace at which I’m moving, neglecting basic safety and health, doesn’t align with how I want to live. So why do I do it?
Ignorance is my guess.
When asked “what do I need to let go of?” it’s this ignorance that I feel needs to go. The simple lack of understanding of what I’m missing. The real question I’d like answered would be “how do I let go of what I need to?” but that must be for some next level writers. I’ll deal with that down the road after I’ve pulled over and scraped my windshield off.