Life is exhausting. Not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. We carry so much—stress, expectations, disappointments, regrets—sometimes it feels like we’re holding onto a weight that never lessens. And what makes it harder? People. We are complex beings, and dealing with others can be one of the most beautiful yet painful experiences of our lives.
In just a single day, our emotions can go through a rollercoaster—joy, frustration, anxiety, sadness, hope, and exhaustion—on repeat. It’s a lot. It’s overwhelming. But life is too short to stay trapped in the pain that loves to linger.
I know this feeling well. My pain has become so embedded in my body that no matter how far I try to run or how much space I create, it finds its way back. Like a shadow that never leaves, pain follows me, showing up in unexpected moments—memories resurfacing, emotions replaying, wounds reopening.
And the hardest part? I keep letting people disappoint me. I give chance after chance, hoping for change, only to be met with the same outcome. It’s a cycle I struggle to break, a lesson I have yet to learn fully.
One of my biggest struggles is anxiety, especially when it comes to traveling. It’s strange, I know, but the moment I have to step outside my comfort zone, my body physically reacts. Nausea, restlessness, racing thoughts. And when it’s about traveling to see family? It’s like my anxiety doubles.
I saw my family two weeks ago, and I am still recovering. It’s like my mind and body are recalibrating from the emotional energy that visit took out of me. But as I sit here, writing, I realize something—I am letting it go. Writing is helping me unload the burden, like peeling back layers of stress and self-doubt and releasing them into the universe.
Every failure, every mistake, every ounce of low self-esteem, every heartbreak—it doesn’t have to define me. It doesn’t have to define you either. People will misunderstand us. Some will never accept us. And that’s okay.
Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting or pretending the pain never existed. It means choosing not to carry it anymore. It means accepting that we cannot control everything—how people treat us, what they think of us, or how they respond to our love and kindness.
What we can control is how we move forward. How we choose to free ourselves from what no longer serves us. For me, writing helps. It’s my way of processing, of turning emotions into something tangible and then setting them free. Maybe for you, it’s something else—art, music, meditation, therapy, exercise, or simply allowing yourself to sit with your emotions without judgment.
Whatever it is, find your way to release. Find a way to lighten your heart. Life is too short to be chained to pain. And if they don’t accept you? If they don’t see your worth? That’s their loss. You were never meant to be confined to the approval of others. You were meant to be free.
So, let go. Even if it’s little by little. Even if it’s messy. Even if it takes time. Because in the end, peace is worth more than the pain we refuse to release.
