…Is that it can be easier said than done.

I think a lot about letting go.

And then I think of what I would like to let go of:

Of mistakes I have made.

Of ways I have screwed up.

Of bad decisions I’ve made or acted on.

Of people I have let in who abused the privilege.

Of people who lied to me.

Of allowing myself to be spoken to a certain way, treated a certain way, even brainwashed a certain way.

Of people whom I feel owe me — time, money, appreciation, an apology.

Of things I’ve spent time on that sapped me, that eluded me, that didn’t in any way serve me.

Of being taken advantage of.

Of the need to rush, rush, rush so I can accomplish, accomplish, accomplish.

Of anger, and shame, and general pissed-off-ed-ness.

And the more I think about all these yucky things, the more I think about them.

And the more I think about them, by definition, the less I let them go.

And the less I let them go, the more they stay with me.

And not in the good way.

One one hand, I really want to let go. I know how good forgiveness — real forgiveness — of myself and of others feels. I have experienced it through my own divorce just last year — true forgiveness means that my Ex and I can truly be friends and, most importantly, good parents.

Letting go is the best (and maybe the only) way to true freedom.

But there are other things, other people, that I hang on to. (Funny, they weren’t even that important to me before the not-letting-go part set in.)

And while hanging on can stink, I am grateful for ALL of it. Even — and especially — the bad sh*t. Because that’s where I have learned and grown and, ultimately, shined.

And the good stuff — ah, the good stuff. My life is FULL of the good stuff. I have the most amazing kids and family, a great Ex husband (see supra), the best sister in the world, amazing friends, a beautiful place to live, a comfy bed to sleep in, a car that takes me wherever I need to go and gifts that I’m still learning how to share with the world.

And freedom. I have beautiful, sweet, delicious freedom in so many ways. I have love. And I can sleep at night knowing I am, at my core, a very, very good person.

So I have to wonder, what good does holding on do me?

How does ruminating and not letting go serve me? Because something somewhere must be serving me or otherwise I would have just kicked it to the curb, no?

Perhaps it is some sort of self-sabotaging measure: The more I focus on the B.S., the less capacity and energy I have for the real stuff. The great, world-changing stuff. The more I focus on what he did to me or she said to me, the less I can focus on what’s next for me and those I will serve.

So maybe it is a fear thing: The ruminating, the not-letting-go — it all sucks, but it is familiar. The old hurts — I know them well. I know what to expect from them, and they never let me down. They deliver — just not in a way that has anything to do with me letting go of them.

Still, I move forward. I am never, ever stuck in the past and the word “regret” is not one that I allow myself to use. Me at 75% is like other people at 110% — more than enough…though not at full-throttle.

And, yes, you guessed it: A full-throttle life is where I want to be. At all times. It’s what I want to live. What I must live. And a full-throttle life requires clean fuel and a path unlittered with stuff that must be left in the dust.

I know I’m not alone. I am sure you have “stuff” you haven’t yet let go of, either. And, like me, you may also beat yourself up about it.

But we’re all human. Messy, imperfect, mistake-making, ever-evolving humans. For me, just getting this out of my head and into this space will, I am certain, allow me to keep moving forward in a way that does serve me.

It will allow me to feel compassion — not anger — for those who wronged me and whose lives do not reflect the goodness and honor I hope that my life reflects. And, ultimately, hopefully sooner rather than later, I hope that compassion will also spill over onto myself. Because I don’t need to do karma’s job on anyone else or try to figure out someone else’s journey.

My job is to take the lessons and move on. I’m workin’ on it.