A season of letting go

Do you feel like you’re in a season of letting go? I know I’ve had to let go of a lot this year.

The pandemic has meant letting go of normal, letting go of expectations, even letting go of seeing people I love. And sandwiched between aging parents and growing children is inevitably about letting go.

Sometimes a gal can feel ripped in two

Yesterday I had a physical reminder of this letting go. Wolfgang was disconnecting one section of our dock, the one that removes to float around the lake. I had one foot on either section of the dock. As the pins came out, the electric motor moved the detachable dock gently away from the fixed portion.

For a moment, I was frozen, stuck, my legs drifting further apart. And in that flash of time, I felt all the feelings of my life right now.

I resist this season of letting go

The unmoving section of the dock, and the shore, represent my life right now. My brain tries so hard to hold on to the familiar, the safe, the not-always-perfect, but somehow comfortable life. I hold onto daily conversations with my dad and mom, my daughters coming in and out of the house, the routines that I’ve come to expect.

And the moving part of the dock represents the changing times, the uncomfortably new, sometimes exciting and a little bit scary-in-its-uncertainty future. On this side of the dock, the scene is hazy, less clear.

I’m caught in the middle

I want to move forward, but I have a hard time letting go. As I hover, frozen, I am less and less comfortable. Here, physically on the dock, my legs are stretching farther apart and I realize that if I don’t make a choice, I will end up in the water.

And really, isn’t that life as well? When we stay frozen, unwilling to let go or move forward, over time, we become paralyzed, caught “in between” — or we fall, sometimes into deep waters.

And I realize letting go in this season is a choice

I have to choose to let go of the familiar, in order to experience the new. I must leave the comfortable shore, to see sights on the lake from a different perspective, to catch a glimpse of those six loons we see and hear in the distance.

Similarly, I choose to let go of what I can’t control, of a pandemic altering my life, of parents dying, of children becoming more independent and moving forward with their lives.

Letting go doesn’t mean giving up

When I let go, I refuse to let my sorrow or anxiety to dictate my future. When I let go, I make space for what is and what will be.

Letting go of expectations for life before the pandemic allows me to accept and adapt to our “new normal.” And isn’t it the same in midlife? When I said goodbye to Dad, I didn’t lose him, because he’s part of me always and I know I will see him again one day. And letting go of my girls doesn’t mean losing them forever, because they’re just a step away.

Accepting change makes space for embracing the present

I chose the moving dock, the one going places. And as I watched the comfortable shore receding in the distance, I was filled with love for it — and excited about what lay ahead on the lake. Letting go in life is more challenging and I know it’ll take work. I also know it’s the right choice.

I choose to move forward because wishing I had more time in the past doesn’t serve me — or anyone else — well. Being present today is what this life is all about.