More Letting Go

My wife and I separated more than three years ago. We’ve both moved on with our lives. The initial intense grief has faded to the background. Even after all this time though I find I am still healing. I am still letting go of what was, and each step in that process reawakens the grief that I had hoped to have left behind.

In February, while going through a box of personal items I had tucked away, I discovered a large pile of letters, cards, and notes that she had written me over the years, dating back to when we first met and began our dating relationship. At first I opened a few and reread them, then quickly realized that this would lead to even more intense emotions than I was already encountering. The cards spoke of undying love and devotion, of how I was the only one for her, how she couldn’t imagine life without me. That’s the way love often feels when it first awakens in our hearts. I doubt that any of us ever imagine that at some point we’ll be looking back at this “undying” love knowing that it did in fact die. It’s probably better if we don’t. But our culture’s obsession with eternal love, with finding the “right” one, with the myth of lifetime romance make it really difficult for those of us who don’t experience that – especially if we start out convinced that we will. It feels a lot like failure, failure that we’re ashamed to talk about. Failure that hurts to share. Failure because we tell ourselves that if we’d only been “enough,” if we’d only been more X, the marriage could have made it. But what if marriage isn’t always meant to last a lifetime? What if we allowed ourselves to express our feelings of undying love and devotion, while allowing space for the possibility that it won’t, in fact, last forever? Does that mean we are setting ourselves up for failure? Or does it mean we are being honest and realistic that life and love are complex and that no one can predict at 21 years old or at any other age, who they will be and how they will relate to this other person 20, 30, 50 years down the road? Because people change. And sometimes those changes are significant enough that staying together is no longer an option, that in fact it might be the unhealthy option.

Letting go after a marriage ends is hard. There’s no softening that reality. There’s a lifetime of mementos and memories to process. In the case of the letters and cards, I chose to release them in fire. This felt more cleansing than simply dumping them in the trash, which was my first plan. Keeping them was out of the question. Why would I want this collection that would awaken painful memories every time I looked at it? That they had lasted three years is due to the fact that I had tucked them away in a box 3 years ago because at that point I wasn’t ready to release them. Now I was. I had a little ceremony on my porch as I fed each letter, card, and note into the flames. The tears streamed down my face. It was simultaneously liberating and grief-filled. Another step in the process of letting go.

Sometime after I burnt the letters, I realized that I still had my old wedding rings. (We each had two because we got simple bands to wear when we moved overseas, lest they get lost.) In the initial grief of the divorce I had tucked them away in another box, out of sight and mind. At that time I wasn’t ready to let them go. Three years later the time had come to take that step. They had no value to me any longer. Actually, they had a negative value, because they were associated with a time that has past, with a relationship that is no more and will never be again. It took me a little searching to locate where I had placed them. Once I found them, I created a little releasing ceremony (at the suggestion of a friend) to let the energy associated with them into the universe. 

Then I found a jewelry store and sold them. It wasn’t about the money. I’m going to give that away, transforming the energy and memories represented by the rings into something positive. The day I went to sell them, some of my co-workers were in the office talking about divorce and how great second marriages can be, unaware that I was working through the grief of selling this core symbol of a marriage I no longer have. I had to step out of the room and let the tears flow.

I’d like to think that I’ve let go of everything related to my former marriage, but that’s not the case. Some things, like our two children, will always be part of my life and, in some sense, a reminder of what was. Other things may be hiding in old boxes, waiting to evoke another wave of grief as I let it go. Then there are the pictures, and all the memories they represent. I still don’t know what to do with them. Since our marriage started in the pre-digital picture era, I have old photo albums as well as thousands of digital images from a life that was and is no more. I can’t bring myself to delete and destroy them. Neither can I bring myself to look at them. Given my journey, it’s more than just recalling a marriage that no longer exists. It’s recalling a person who was me and yet was not me. I only share pictures from my past with those I feel the deepest trust and connection with, a handful of people in my life. Maybe that will change with time. This, like everything else related to releasing and healing, is a complicated process filled with a complex mixture of emotions. I can’t say there’s joy in this aspect of the journey, but I hold on to the belief that in the releasing I open space for new life and new growth.

Letting Go

I played my last regular season soccer game last night, at least for the foreseeable future. It’s one step among several that I am taking to let go of some things, to declutter and make space in my life. Over the past three years I have actively explored new opportunities, confronted fears and stepped into new spaces. I’ve chosen to engage my time and energy to address some of the current pressing social issues. I’ve become an active storyteller, tried my hand at stand-up comedy, started playing soccer again, joined the boards of 3 nonprofit organizations and chaired one community council. I’ve done it because I wanted and chose to. I’ve done it because it was important to me. I’ve done it because I found some measure of enjoyment in doing so. But I’ve been feeling since the beginning of the year that my life has become too full. I am giving out more than I can sustain. I have more than once felt overwhelmed by the commitments on my plate, and while I have managed to fulfill all of them to the best of my ability at the time, I have also recognized that I need to make some changes if I want to live a sustainable, healthy life.

Letting go is not easy for me. I am not releasing anything that I don’t care about. Such as soccer. I have really enjoyed playing again. I questioned whether I would be up to playing again at this point in my life, and I proved to myself that I was. I’m proud of myself for going for it. As I’ve written previously, it has been a pleasure playing with a team that cares for one another as much as the Fierce Pride does. I can’t imagine another team that would go winless through 3 seasons and still actively support and encourage one another on the field every game. Now I’m proud of myself for letting it go.

Sometimes we have to let go of things we enjoy to allow space for the things most central to our lives. I enjoy soccer, but I love dance. Over time, the impact of soccer on my body and my time has come to have an increasingly detrimental effect on my ability to dance with the level of enjoyment and commitment that I want. So something has to give. Dance has been a central part of my identity for almost 6 years now. It is an activity that centers and grounds me, that opens avenues for expression and creativity, that helps me be physically, mentally, and emotionally healthy. As I considered all the activities I had committed to and realized that dance was getting crowded out, I knew that I needed to make adjustments to rectify that. I will miss playing soccer, but I am at peace with my choice to let it go.

In evaluating my involvements, I have been considering not only what I’m doing and how it aligns with my core values and passions. I’ve also been contemplating WHY I pursue so many different things. My therapist pointed out that I am an overachiever. More significantly, she helped me recognize that I am an overachiever because I am trying to prove to the world, and more importantly to myself, that I am worthy of love and respect. I am trying to demonstrate, really to convince myself, that I am enough. That I am not a failure. This awareness shook me deeply. I realized that I am doing the very thing I had striven to get away from. I am, as Brené Brown speaks of it, hustling for my worth. I have released much of the armor that I used to protect myself from feelings of inadequacy. But I am still chasing validation, rather than finding it inside myself. This pursuit has led me to some great opportunities. It has brought me out of my comfort zone to discover new passions and interests. It has empowered me to live boldly, but it has been fueled by an unhealthy motivation and I have as a result overextended myself.

I have had the intention to create space in my life since the beginning of the year, but I kept hesitating. It is difficult for me to let go of things. I wonder if I am letting others down. I wrestle with internal feelings of failure – that doubt that says by letting go I’m admitting that I’m not enough. I struggle with the fear of missing out (FOMO), in which I compare my life to others and feel that if I’m not doing what they are I might miss out on something amazing. Maybe I will. But I have the power to choose what I want to do and the ability to reflect on why I am making the choices I am.

Letting go of some of my involvements is not just about finding a healthier life balance. It’s self care at a deeper level. It’s making space to recognize and affirm my worth apart from anything I do. It’s giving myself the freedom and making the choice to invest in myself and in those things that nourish me. It’s reflecting on my core passions, like dance and time with friends, and making sure I devote time and energy in them. It means slowing down and enjoying the moments of life, rather than rushing from one thing to the next, filling my life with activity that provides an elusive external validation but leaves me tired and drained. Letting go does not rule out trying new things. In fact I have a waiting list of things that interest me which I hope to pursue. But I want to try them out at a more reasonable pace and from a healthier motivation.

So tonight I’m going to stay home, drink a relaxing cup of tea, read a book, maybe play some music, or whatever else will nourish my soul in this moment, because I don’t have to prove to anyone, least of all myself, that I’m good enough, strong enough, smart enough, engaged enough, or anything enough. I am already enough as I am.