“Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it.”
—Ann Landers
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about letting go—about how easy it is to say and how hard it actually is to do.
It’s hard to let go—to let go of things, let go of attachments, let go of beliefs that no longer serve you, let go of old stories you tell yourself, let go of people. To let go of the way things were. And it’s especially hard to let go of children.
For me, it’s ironic that parenting requires you to be all in, all there, all the time—giving love unconditionally, being totally present—and then it requires you to let go. Zip! Just like that, you’re expected to let go. And be happy about it!
I guess that’s the cycle of life. You give your all, and if you do, your children are supposed to feel loved, secure, and independent—independent enough to go off (I almost said “abandon you”) and live their own lives. And you, the parent, are supposed to be totally fine with that. You’re supposed to wave bye-bye with a big smile on your face and feel like you did good.
What the—?!
Letting go is tough for me. I’m doing it, but I admit that I don’t like it. Nope, I don’t like it at all. That’s my honest feeling.
There was the time I went into Bed Bath & Beyond for a third visit in a week. (I had four kids moving—into dorms, out of dorms, into apartments and out, moving moving moving.) I had been there so many times that the manager greeted me cheerfully with jokes like, “Is this it? Is this the last time, the last one?” I smiled as my eyes welled up with tears. My daughter rolled her own eyes and told me to “just relax!” (FYI, I hate being told to relax.) She told me, “Just be happy for us!” She reminded me daily that this wasn’t about me, it was about letting my kids do their own thing. Let go. She said, “This is all going the way it’s supposed to!”
But sometimes I don’t like things the way they are supposed to be. That’s why I’ve needed an infusion of courage in order to move forward.
So when I watched my youngest child graduate from high school and walk across the stage out into adulthood, I admitted to myself that the time had come for me to let go. I knew I had no choice but to do so. Let go, Maria, I said to myself. Let go. Ha.
Well, the truth is, I know I can and will do it. I have faith. Faith in myself and in my kids. I know this new era of my life is going to be more unscripted and more wide open. That’s both scary and exhilarating. The days will no longer revolve around school schedules. The days will become mine to imagine, mine to create.
That also means no more hiding behind my kids, no more saying “I can’t go here,” or “I can’t do that,” because of my parenting chores. I will just have to plain old let go. I have no choice.
Of course, I once read that someone said, “Everything I let go of has claw-marks on it!”
But then again, I’m free now. Okay, okay, I’m ready. Because the truth is, LET GO also means LET’S GO! (Please remind me that I said that!)
Dear God, letting go is hard for me, because I want to hold on and be in control. That makes me feel safe. Help me to realize that I am safe, even when I let go of the way things are and allow them to unfold in the new ways they’re supposed to. Amen.