What Does It Really Mean to Let Go?
I often hear the words, “Just let it go.”
But what does that actually mean?
Because simply thinking about letting something go—or exhaling deeply—doesn’t mean we’ve truly released it. Letting go isn’t passive. It’s an inner process that begins with recognition—naming what we’re holding onto—and then having the willingness to release it.
And that’s not easy.
Letting go often requires us to meet the very emotions we try to avoid: grief, anger, fear, sadness. Emotions that feel heavy—sometimes unbearable. But it’s only through acknowledging and moving through them that we stop being held hostage by them.
I’ve noticed that when I’ve truly let go, I can think about the person, event, or situation—and there’s no emotional charge left. No bitterness. No mental loops. No lingering ache. Just peace.
I may still remember, but I don’t suffer.
I feel like I’ve alchemized and transmuted.
I feel resolved.
I’ve come to acceptance without resignation—and for me, that distinction means everything.
Because in real letting go, I feel free.
My heart feels lighter.
My mind stops ruminating.
And I return home to myself—more clear, grounded, and whole.
⸻
Letting go doesn’t happen in a single breath or moment—it unfolds through awareness. It begins when we’re willing to see what we’re holding. Sometimes, it’s not the person or the event itself, but the story we’ve attached to it—the meaning we made about who we are because of it. When I pause long enough to name it honestly, something begins to loosen.
From there, I let myself feel.
The tears, the tightness, the fire of anger, the ache of sadness. Letting go doesn’t mean suppressing or pretending it doesn’t hurt; it means allowing those sensations to rise and move. Often, I’ll write, take a walk, or let my body tremble or breathe until the energy starts to shift. These emotions are just that—energy in motion—and when I let them move, space begins to return.
Presence becomes the anchor. When my mind starts replaying the old story or analyzing the past, I come back to the body. I place a hand on my heart, take a slow breath, and feel the ground beneath me. Here, in this moment, I remember: this is where healing happens. This is where release lives.
Movement practices like Pangu Qi Gong, yoga, or even walking barefoot on the earth help me bring it from the mind into the body. There’s something sacred about letting Great Nature hold the energy I no longer need, and also offering love back to Great Nature.The body knows how to release—if I give it the chance.
Letting go is not about forgetting or dismissing what mattered. It’s about surrendering the grip. It’s allowing life to flow again through what once felt stuck—trusting that what’s meant for me will remain, and what’s ready to leave will free me in return.
✨Have you ever thought you let something go—only to find it circling back later, asking for a deeper release? Yep me too.
Sometimes, I’ve had to let go more than once—of the same situation, the same person, the same wound. Each time, I meet a deeper layer. Each time, a softer truth. Letting go isn’t a straight line—it’s a spiral, guiding me home through repeated circles of release and remembrance.
So if something comes back, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’ve reached a new depth of readiness—a new layer asking to be seen, felt, and freed.
Love for the journey,
Anisha