On letting go – some.
- “It isn’t done yet, so I can’t go to bed.”
- “I know it doesn’t matter to anyone else, but I’m not happy with it yet. (So, I’ll hold my breath until it’s right).”
- Oh, and is this one you: “I can’t let them think I’m incompetent.”
I don’t like letting go.
In fact, I’m holding onto middle school grudges and hurt from lies that stung more than sticks and stones ever could.
I’m hold onto anger and fear and to the idea that something can be perfect. I’ve held my breath through tasks, miniscule tasks that no one else in the world even knows/cares about, because I want it all to be perfect.
If it’s perfect: my world won’t crumble.
If it’s perfect: they won’t leave.
If it’s perfect: I will matter until it is broken again.
When they tell me to take it easy, I become perplexed. These are words with which I am unfamiliar. Today, however, I desire to know them like black knows night.
I need to know them because my life depends on ease. It depends on my comfort with unfinished things. It depends on me leaving the men’s group I found to be so helpful, until several made it plain that my black life didn’t matter. I must “pass on this one, because I don’t have the energy for it.”
I must tread lightly or my blood pressure will spike and I’ll drop.
Most of all, my wife and daughter need me here, so I must let go some. I am breathing now – and now is always of importance.
What are you needing to let slip and fall? Loosen your grip.
🙋🏽♀️Thoughts on this message? Let me know at firstname.lastname@example.org.