Letting Go

Dear friend,

The most important part of my self-care practice is often the most difficult.

I don’t participate in New Year’s resolutions. But I do ask myself at the end of each year what I want to leave behind. And often I am carrying so much that needs to be put down. My arms are tired.

I was born to two very sentimental parents. My father, especially, has a tendency to hold onto things. He is by no means a hoarder, but his habits seem a little silly sometimes. He has been known to keep random things that many people would think of as having little or no value. He’ll arrive home to a note from my mother: “Went to bank. Back soon.” And he will hold onto that note forever.

I inherited this sometimes-troubling habit of holding onto things. I don’t want to throw away things that were given to me by people I love—even if they have been destroyed or are well-past usefulness. I’m a very tidy person, so any sort of clutter makes me anxious. Every now and then I have to say goodbye to something, and I need to remind myself that the memory and the sentiment behind an object is more valuable than the object itself.

Much more concerning is my inability to move on when I need to leave something behind. I’ve always found it difficult to let go of memories and ideas that do not serve me, to stop revisiting traumas. Often I stumble across these roadblocks purely by accident—a piece of music will trigger a sharp memory of a depressing chapter in my life, a friend will mention a television series I watched during a period of illness. But every now and then, I’ll wander the landscapes of a painful memory, searching for something I might have missed before.

Why? I hear my mother say. Why are you doing that to yourself? It’s in the past.

My first relationship ended in devastating heartbreak. I cried myself to sleep for months. Not because I missed my partner, but because he had destroyed my self esteem with some very cruel words. These words hung in the air long after I had forgotten what it was like to be with him, forgotten the contours of his face. He had told me—literally—that I was not enough for him.

I had long worried that I was lacking. And his words seemed to confirm this deep, insidious fear of mine. It’s funny: mere hours after he left that night, I had the presence of mind to stick up for myself. I sent him a long text message, affirming my self-worth, and I dumped him. As painful as that night was, it was also extremely empowering. I want to reach backwards, grasp past Marissa’s shoulders, and say, LISTEN TO YOURSELF! BELIEVE THESE WORDS! Because, the next day, and every day for the next several months, I second-guessed my decision to break up with him. What if he was right? I thought. What if I’m really not enough? What if he was just being honest with me? How can I be enough for my future partners?

Now—years later—when I Iook into the mirror, I finally see a whole person. I see a woman who is enough. Though there are still moments when this old fear comes knocking on the door like the Big Bad Wolf, I have been able let go. I have shed the cloak of self-hatred my ex made for me, the cloak I wore like a second skin.

Holding onto things that had best be let go of is like holding your breath. It’s like nausea. Thoughts and memories can become toxic.

At the beginning of 2021, I was extremely sick. All the time. I sat in my room, watching shows I didn’t even like, feeling as though I was dying. It set the tone for the rest of the year (as I’ve mentioned, this ended up being the most traumatic year of life), and to this day, thinking about those long, miserable, grey days makes me feel physically ill. Last spring I even made a list of things—TV shows, songs, places, people—that reminded me of this chapter of my life, and I brought it to my therapist. “How do I wipe my mind clean of ever entering the Stop & Shop on King Street?” “Can I block this person (who did absolutely nothing wrong and just happened to be in my life during this time) on Facebook? Will they notice? How can I ensure that I never, ever, ever see an episode of Glee again?”

I wished for a special memory vacuum. Unfortunately, all I could do was learn how to let go. A skill that’s never been a stronghold of mine.

I thought something was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I move on? Why did I keep returning to these unpleasant recollections? Why had I come to hate Stop & Shop so much?

But my therapist showed me that there was a name for what I was experiencing: post-traumatic stress disorder. I had never imagined that I had experienced trauma. I had always assumed that the only trauma was trauma with a capital “T”. The truth is, most everyone experiences trauma in one way or another, and it isn’t always violent or dramatic. But the list of “lowercase T” traumas I experienced between January and August 2021 added up to a “capital T” trauma.

For those who have experienced trauma, the act of “letting go” is not simple by any means. I am not an expert—indeed, I still wrestle with these bilious memories two years later. Learning to let go is often—for anyone who has painful or unpleasant memories or has internalized toxic ideas about themselves—a lifelong practice, and often it’s advisable to obtain the support of a mental health professional at the onset of this journey.

I hear you; you’re wondering how you can continue to move forward when the work might take years or even decades. The thought of lifelong therapy and slow progress is enough to make you freeze altogether. Fortunately, you don’t have to be a professional to get the process started. Whenever I’m feeling haunted by a memory or thought, I perform a ritual.

Yes, it’s time to embrace your inner witch and work some real magic. Stay with me here…

Sometimes the act of doing something in the physical world can release something emotionally. Chances are you’ve been advised at some point in your life to write a thought or memory (or an ex’s name) on a scrap of paper and set fire to it. It doesn’t have to be that dramatic (but it sounds fun, right?). Days after my breakup, I walked to my friend’s dorm room with a box of things that reminded me of my ex—among them, my journal (the pages filled with letters I would never send) and a now-crumbling rose he had given me at the beginning of our relationship. Together, my friend and I crossed campus in the icy December night. We stood on a bridge overlooking the Mill River, and with tears in my eyes I tossed the rose over the rail. It was swept away by the current. Feeling instantly lighter, I unlocked my phone and deleted my ex’s number. My friend was shocked and impressed at my impulsive behavior.

Back in her dorm room, we fantasized about setting fire to the pages of my journal. (We didn’t go through with it, for obvious reasons… but what we did instead probably wasn’t much better.) In a frenzy, we tore the pages to shreds and flushed the scraps down the toilet. It felt more appropriate, anyhow, given my feelings towards the man who had broken my heart. As we ran up and down the hall, flushing handful after handful of paper, we could not stop laughing.

It would be months before I was able to fully release the painful memories and begin to repair my self-worth. But the rituals I performed that night shifted something inside of me. They were a celebration of my strength as a woman and my ability to let go. They were the first few—albeit painful—steps towards freedom and healing.

You do not need an open flame to perform a ritual of letting go. You write out an affirmation and read it out loud (or scream it out, if you don’t have neighbors). You can toss your ex’s forgotten sweater into the dumpster (or donate it, if you’re feeling environmentally conscious in the heat of the moment). You can slip into a white gown and dance barefoot in the moonlight, energized by your intention to release something or someone. I don’t advise flushing anything except toilet paper down the toilet. Try inventing your own ritual. It’s always more powerful and meaningful when it’s all your own.

So, what did I choose to leave in 2022?

I left behind the idea that I am not worthy of love.

I left behind memories of the worst year of my life (It’s about time!).

I left behind feelings of hopelessness.

I banish these things. They are no longer welcome. I’m sure they will come knocking again and again, but I will refuse to let them in. And eventually, they will leave, and they will not return.

What are you holding onto?

What are you afraid might happen when you let go?