Let go, or Be Dragged.

My dear friend Morgan and I were commiserating a couple of weeks ago, and she asked if I'd ever heard the zen proverb "let go or be dragged." I hadn't, but it sparked an immediate sense of familiarity. Yes, I'm currently feeling dragged. I looked it up and found it's actually more of a Western psychology term, but the power of the phrase holds either way.

I've been reflecting on all the changes I'm experiencing right now: my last child leaving for college, a recent divorce after 30-plus years of marriage, menopause, aging parents, a career transition, and falling in love. None of these are small. Each one asks me to surrender a former version of myself.

I became a mom at 19, and eventually had three more children, my last at 33. I've been an active mom for 32 straight years — nurturing, guiding, listening, feeding, growing with and giving to other beings. I found a lot of joy and satisfaction there, and I'm learning how much of my identity was built around guiding my children. Even with the awareness that I needed something of my own outside of them, being their mom was a solid structure to hold onto. Now that they're launching into adulthood, I'm no longer their director. Because I raised them to be self-directed, I have to surrender to the fact that they have their own thoughts, opinions, and judgments — including of me. Part of me says, "Duh, of course they do." Another part feels real fear about losing the closeness I've nurtured for most of my life. I have to believe in them, and in our connection. Let go, or be dragged.

Divorce is sad. It doesn't matter that it was the right choice — it's still sad. My ex and I met at 18 and grew up together. Looking back, the signs were there from the beginning. Still, we raised four children together, and the one thing our family did really well was be together. All six of us love being together — we laugh a lot, and we can talk deeply about life, meaning, and matters of the soul. My ex and I held opposite ends of a spectrum for our kids to explore and find their own path within. Eventually, those opposite ends became too vast to bridge, and going separate ways was for the best for us, and ultimately our kids. Recognizing that a structure which once held me safe and secure is gone has been devastating.

While new structures are forming, we're all discovering ourselves in new ways. I can see what's possible, and letting go of something I truly loved, something we all loved, is harder than I ever imagined. Let go, or be dragged.

I remember watching my mom go through menopause. She changed in ways I didn't expect. She used to be open-minded and possibility-oriented- I get that quality, and my instinct to look for the good in things, from her. During her menopausal years, I didn't want to talk to her much. She wasn't sleeping well, she was having hot flashes, she'd gained weight, and she was uncomfortable- often complaining, often negative. I feel guilty about that now that I understand. Those were just the visible things. What I didn't see were the smaller ones: forgetting simple words, losing the capacity to handle stress the way you used to, childhood fears you thought you'd conquered coming back at full volume, whack-a-mole with aches and pains, and mornings spent looking in the mirror thinking, “who am I, and whose body is this?”

For me, I used to be driven to accomplish whatever I set my mind to, and looking back, I've accomplished a lot, personally and professionally. I'm grateful, and genuinely proud of how I've lived. But now I find it hard to push, or even to want to achieve. I love my work, and I truly just want to be useful to others. I know a lot and have a lot to share, but I've stopped making meaning out of who or what that makes me. It's disorienting to look for drive within and come up empty, especially when drive has been a core ingredient of my personality since birth. I've had moments of panic, wondering if I'm depressed- and yet I don't feel depressed. I find joy in life, and I want to connect with others. Menopause, like everything else, has asked me to let go. Or be dragged.

Finding love after divorce wasn't anything I'd considered or wanted. I have a full life between friends, kids, and work. I actually told my ex, during the divorce, that I knew I wouldn't date again- I was sure there wasn't a man alive who could deal with me. I don't mean that unkindly toward myself; I just know myself. I'm internally growth- and transformation-focused, which makes me a bit hard to be around, or at least hard to keep up with. Three weeks after saying that out loud, I was asked on a coffee date. I was scared to death, but something inside me was curious, and I agreed to go. That was about a year and a half ago, and we're still dating.

Falling in love at 50 is very different from falling in love at 18- and yet, more than once, I've felt 18 again, which I don't love. It's made me rethink my direction and added dimensions to my life I hadn't planned for, like blending a family. Truth be told, this is what I'm resisting most. It's scary. I loved the family I had, and it's hard to imagine new characters in it. I'm being asked to grow in ways I never wanted to, and yet, now I want to. It's not just me who has to grow; all of us do, to make room for this new love. It's a big ask, and I have zero control over my adult kids, or his. This is where letting go has been hardest, AND I am done being dragged.

It's amazing how one small phrase has stayed with me, and has reshaped how I’m thinking about life and the way I want to show up. I have felt dragged by all these transitions happening at once. I sometimes wonder if this is exactly what I needed to learn how to fully let go. It’s one thing to say I need to let go, and another to actually do it… to FEEL the grief that’s below it all.

The truth is I never had control of any of these things… not of my body, not of my ex husband, not of my children. I haven’t perfected the art of letting go, but I am definitely getting better. Allowing myself, situations, and people to just be, growing in our own timing, and in all our messy glory, and to FEEL loss. I get why people don’t want to feel, truly. Messy is an understatement, AND it’s also been liberating. The only thing I can control are my thoughts, and how I’m choosing to perceive things. For now, I’m choosing to see that I can allow change in life, and allow life to change me. I’m learning at deeper level that endings and beginnings are linked, and that joy and pain can exist at the same time, and I am capable of holding it all. Life is messy. It’s also wonderful. Let go, or be dragged.