The Art of Letting Go

When I was little I hung onto my small yellow and ultimately frayed blanket with a tenacity bordering on mania. My mom informs me that when she pried it from my hands to wash it - I would stand mournfully in front of the washing machine waiting for the ordeal to end while she attempted to reassure me it would reappear at some point. This should be an indication of my fondness to let go of things - blankets, bad boyfriends, bad habits, bad jobs - I can cling on with Olympian endurance. So I find myself now struggling with the notion of the things that I can't hang onto and trying not to fall any further down the rabbit hole of wishing my final time away on the things I can't have. Chief among them is work and the realization that as much as I imagined stepping back into the life I had - with a job that consumed me - my body is not up to that challenge - and everything I put off, declined or failed to pursue using my work and my slavery to an incessant email trail as an excuse sits there now in my consciousness - a list of what was avoided and what cannot be reclaimed.

I suppose I imagine there are legions of people out there who face challenges similar to mine and do so with benevolent grace. I want to find that place - that acceptance and crawl into it, with my blanket wrapped around me and nothing but love in my heart.