On Letting Everyone Go

Spoiler Alert: The love always comes back

I used to hate goodbyes, because I forgot that ‘hello’ waits for me, on the other side. ‘Hello’ is ready, curious, and often kindhearted with no expectation. It’s a new beginning, a promise of something different. There’s always more love, more friendship, more opportunities. So, why do some of us hold on so tightly to relationships that have naturally run their course? The only conclusion that I’ve come up with is that there are people, who similar to me, struggle to embrace the unknown, whose anxiety-riddled brains often fail to imagine a better possibility, a happier ending, a win. So, we stay in situations that no longer serve us emotionally and spiritually, because we think our life is no different than that Jack Nicholson’s movie, As Good as It Gets. 

But we’re wrong. 

I know this, because I recently released everyone I love and I found myself met with a freer version of myself. 

I used to think “letting people go” had to be synonymous with cutting people off – a process that sometimes involves unhealthy detachment, nonchalance, and isolation. It seemed like such an anti-community attitude, reminiscent of my emotionally unavailable years. If I detach myself from the idea of people sticking around, then surely I must not care about maintaining a fruitful connection? But if I hold onto the idea of them being around forever, it becomes less about our relationship and our individual autonomies and more about control. There’s no love to be found there.

“Awakening to love can happen only as we let go of our obsession with power and domination…a love ethic presupposes that everyone has the right to be free, to live fully and well,” writes Bell Hooks in All About Love: New Visions. Her words ring true for me in this stage of life, as I embrace the flow. The truth of the matter is that we can all want to embody love, but if we seek to control those who we claim to love, then we’re already misunderstanding the assignment. 

I find myself reckoning with what love means, how to practice it in a world driven by hate and indifference. Nurture is at the core of how I love, but I know there’s a difference between care and control. My Type A personality isn’t an excuse to be overbearing in my relationships and rob the people I love of the chance to show up when they want to, IF they want to. So, when I say I embrace “letting people go,” I mean that I wholeheartedly accept the possibility of them suddenly deciding to no longer be in my life anymore. 

Friendship, like life, ebbs and flows. 

Yet sometimes, there’s a full stop. 

There’s no amount of fighting, repairing, or pleading that will change that, which may sound cryptic. However, there’s a beautiful caveat. 

The more I let people go, the more I’m pleasantly surprised by the ones who choose to come back. Many of them welcome me with their arms and hearts wide open, pulling me into a warm embrace. The reunion is wonderful, but that’s not the reality for everyone. For some people, the end of our connection results in more peace and happiness. And if I love them, as I say I do, then I will move past the hurt and reach a mental state of being where I’m proud of them for getting one step closer to who they're supposed to have in their lives. 

My new realization is a more niche version of the “Let Them Theory” that keeps circulating on the internet, which basically describes the process of letting people in your life do what they want to do in your connection. If the person who you’re dating doesn’t make moves towards a serious commitment, let them. If you have a friend who constantly flakes on you, let them. Then, base your next steps off of that information. 

It’s so freeing, both for myself and others, to allow them to move authentically. I recognize that the way they move might not align with what I need, and I get to also decide where our relationship goes from there. Maybe we will have a conversation or two. Maybe our dynamic ceases to exist. That’s okay. There’s more possibilities out there, for me and for them.

May we all embody love in a way that shines so bright that we accept the potential absence of others with the knowledge that our completeness will naturally attract people who choose to return. 

I mourn the version of myself, the one who held on so tightly. I clung onto people, not because I was so easily attached, but the concept of impermanence disturbed me. I desperately wanted safety and constancy. I desperately wanted everything to stay the same, to avoid change or heartbreak. I’m human. But my relationships aren’t just about me. They’re reciprocal, a tango of sorts where it would never make sense for me to always take the lead. It’s the highest form of love, then, to let everyone be, to surrender and release. The return of love becomes all the more sweet.