Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.
― Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose
If you were to look back at my public life a year ago, you would find very little evidence of my state of being. There are a few pictures of a fabulous friend’s equally fabulous Seattle wedding, and a couple of cryptic Facebook posts, but other than that this social creature was uncharacteristically private. At some points, I even disconnected myself completely and temporarily closed down the channels to find me. Today, you can’t approach the Internet without stumbling over my stream of consciousness somewhere. Come at me, and come get me if you choose!
So why am I now willing to expose this purposely closeted stage? You see, July of 2012 looks frighteningly similar to July of 2011. Back then, Jason’s son had just left, Jason was traveling, my uncle had unexpectedly died, and I was preparing to head home alone to Wisconsin for the funeral. If you sadly substitute my aunt in that previous sentence, you’d have a pretty damn good indication of now. The difference? The vital difference in my frame of mind? The chink in my armor then that doesn’t exist today?
You could say I was in hiding; I would say I was letting go.
Last year as I prepared to fly home, I was also preparing to leave Jason. I would like to say that I did it cleanly and that it contained little drama, but that would most certainly be a fallacy. We’d been tripping over our relationship inconsistencies for a while, so it wasn’t surprising that we were both pretty bruised by the catalyst point. I wanted hard what he wasn’t prepared at that time to give. I pushed; he pulled. We both defended. But when we were together, it was raw and awesome and fun and exciting and pure and absolutely fucking fabulous. And so we hung on.
And then something happened and I reclaimed the woman I am and was meant to be…a secure, strong, confident, beautiful badass. And then I let go. Jason has said that my letting go was the power he needed to move forward. I let go, and then so did he. And seven months after I walked away, he sprinted back in. Although I’m not proud of everything I did during those “quiet” months, I appreciate why they were necessary. We now both understand that we couldn’t be this in love and committed to a life together, if the letting go hadn’t come first.
Just like a year ago I prepared to fly home alone for a funeral. I am also preparing a future with Jason.
Letting go is an intensely powerful act and it is just as poignant in death as it is in life. Now that my Aunt has let go, I know that those around her can now do the same. Letting go to find the peace. Letting go, and loving on.