when is it time to let go?
Easier said than done.
Years of putting my Achilles heel(s?) on display (though admittedly only to those closest to me) and the subsequent cynicism as a result of them being targeted has exposed to me the flawed logic of the old adage ‘forgive and forget’. Forgiveness is—for lack of a more sesquipedalian* word—good. Easy? No. Good? Sure. But if you, after forgiving someone, then “forget” the way they have wronged you, do you not put yourself at risk of being wronged in the same way (by the same person or a different person altogether) because they witnessed you grant pardon and then seemingly dismiss out of hand this aforementioned wrongdoing? Is “forgetting” not the same as saying “clearly I was not affected significantly by your actions because look! I am continuing life as normal! don’t be shy, do it again!”? Do I just have a warped, pessimistic view of what post-forgiveness is supposed to look like? Perhaps.
Is letting go of something the same as forgiveness? Or is it more akin to the ‘forgetting’ part? Is it both? Is it neither? Is it necessary?
If someone stabs you, forgiveness feels like pulling the knife out. Unpleasant, but vital to survival.
Forgetting feels like handing the knife back. I think this belongs to you, not me.
Letting go feels like walking away from whatever (or whomever) stabbed you, even when you’re unsure if you will end up with a knife in your back. Anxiety-ridden. No sense of surety. But, after a step or two, there is a glimpse of relief. You are putting distance between yourself and this thing that has tortured you for however long, knowing that if you have to face it again it is due to forces beyond your control because you turned around, dammit, and you started walking.
If you do get stabbed again, whose fault is it? Is it on the person/thing with the knife because—and I feel like this should go uncontested—stabbing people isn’t cool? Or is it on you for turning your back on a situation that has been historically dangerous to your person and, in fact, it was pretty moronic of you to assume you would not get stabbed again? Is it on both parties? Neither?
I suppose it’s necessary at this juncture to say that most or all of these questions are rhetorical in nature. Not because I desire to write something hard-hitting and thought-provoking, but because I am stupid and do not know the answers and am constantly attempting new ways to process my thoughts and emotions as a consequence of bottling them up for most of my life and never learning how to. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
How long does it take to get over a break-up?
The length of the relationship.
A month for every year you were together.
However long it takes to sleep with x amount of people.
You never will.
How many times does someone you love have to hurt you before you say goodbye?
Once—I will not allow myself to be hurt again.
Twice—everyone deserves a second chance.
They can hurt me as much as they want as long as they never leave me.
What do you do when people wrong you?
Forgive.
Forget.
Let it go.
Is letting go possible without forgiveness? Without an apology? Without closure? More importantly, is letting go worth it? This one (I hesitate to say with any certainty), I think, I can answer.
Letting go is hard. Sometimes it is impossible**. But I guess it is worth it. I will continue to commit to this non-committal language because, again, this is not advice, it is the ramblings of someone who has whatever the opposite of a firm grasp is on her life. Anyway, yes, sure, letting go is worth it.
Why?
Letting go is worth it because it allows you to grow again. It confiscates the measuring stick that only tells you your height compared to others or just simply reads ‘STUCK IN THE PAST’. Letting go is worth it because it restores your vision. It gets rid of the glasses that constrain your vision to only seeing that one thing or, rather, it gets rid of the lens that only allows you to see things within the context of that one thing. Letting go is worth it because it lets the light back in. It opens the dusty blinds of your soul that got slammed shut upon looking out onto something painful. Letting go is worth it because it quiets your deafening mind, eases your weary soul, pumps blood back into your battered heart, and tells you that it is okay to be okay again. It is okay to open up again. It is okay to love again.
When is it time to let go?
When you can’t go a day without thinking about it and it does you more harm than good.
When it takes a toll on your self-worth/ability to love yourself or others/general will to live.
When it is clear that everyone else already has.
I don’t know when the right time to let go is. I don’t know what the right reason to let go is. In many ways, I’d say I don’t even know how to let go. But maybe that’s it. Maybe it is less about letting something go completely, and more about acknowledging the pain or the maliciousness or the broken promises or the broken heart and not surrendering them to the wind or doing your best to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind them into oblivion, but learning to coexist with them. Maybe it is letting them do whatever it is they were meant to do in your life and shape you into whoever you were meant to be, and being okay with the results. Maybe letting go is actually letting go of whatever previous notion you had about the way things were supposed to be, and making peace with the way things are. Maybe.
P
*Look up the definition—it will both please and annoy you
**This statement is based on Things I Should Really Let Go Of that are still pending approval in my life—don’t use it as an excuse to not let something go
To lighten the mood, and because I’m obscenely self-indulgent, here is a collection of photos from my solo road trip that I guess I’m technically still on. I was unhappy, and I suppose a little caught up in things I hadn’t let go of (see? it all connects somehow), so I left.
The journey has been real frickin pretty. Still trying to figure out what the destination is.
