Sometimes, the hardest battles are the ones I fight within myself. The urge to do everything perfectly. The habit of making myself small. The belief that I must be the glue that holds everything and everyone together. These thoughts have shaped so much of how I move through life, but I am beginning to wonder—does it really have to be this way?
This week, as I played with Lynn Grieveson’s stunning kit Let It Go, I found myself drawn into its colors, its textures, its quiet invitation to reflect. Art journaling has a way of unlocking truths I often struggle to put into words. And this time, the message was clear: I am holding on too tightly.
Eckhart Tolle once wrote, “Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than hanging on.” I used to believe that strength meant control—keeping everything in place, fixing problems, making sure everything ran smoothly. But I see now that true strength is something else entirely. It’s not about gripping harder. It’s about knowing when to loosen my grasp.
Over the past few months, I have been reflecting on how I live my life. I see the ways I hold myself back, adjusting my plans to fit someone else’s moods, hesitating to take up space. I have spent so much time trying to accommodate, to smooth over, to make things easier for others. But in doing so, I sometimes fade into the background of my own life.
And then there is perfectionism—the constant need to get things just right. The fear of making mistakes, of not being good enough. How many moments have I postponed, how many dreams have I shelved, all because I was afraid they wouldn’t measure up?
But I am learning. Slowly, gently, I am learning. Letting go does not mean giving up. It means choosing myself. My peace. My happiness. My life.
I don’t need to win every argument. I don’t need to make everyone happy. I don’t need to orchestrate everything to perfection. Sometimes, it is enough to take a deep breath and decide: I will let this go.
It is both terrifying and freeing. Because letting go means making space—for new experiences, for unexpected joys, for a softer version of myself. A version that clings less to what should have been and embraces more of what is.
And that, I think, is a kind of beauty all its own.
