This week has been a busy one. I’ve hardly had a minute to sit down before the next to-do pops up. I’m not complaining; a full plate sometimes helps me get a lot done. But tonight I’m on the couch with my feet propped up, breathing a little easier, allowing myself to simply be.
Earlier this week I had lunch with a friend of more than 32 years. We always pick up right where we left off, and we even compliment each other on how young we still look. He asked why I haven’t written a book yet, and his confidence in me is so tangible. He believes I can do it. As I listened, I wondered: why don’t I hold that same confidence in myself?
I think we hold ourselves back not because we aren’t capable, but because we’re gripping expectations about how things should happen. We wait for the right time, the perfect plan, the moment we finally feel ready. Maybe part of moving forward is letting go, not of things in a closet, but of the expectations we carry for ourselves, our bodies, and our families.
That isn’t simple for me. I like routines. I like knowing what comes next. But life keeps reminding me that not everything can be planned or controlled. Our bodies change. Our children grow up and need us differently. Recovering from back surgery has shown me that progress doesn’t follow the timeline I’d choose. I’ve had to practice patience, listen to my body, and accept that moving forward sometimes means slowing down.
I think about this often in my work with intuitive eating. So many people spend years trying to change their bodies, believing they’ll finally feel at home once they reach a certain size. Letting go of those rules can feel frightening. But acceptance doesn’t mean giving up. When we stop fighting where we are, we can ask what we actually need: movement that feels good, more rest, a conversation with a friend, or a different choice made without criticism.
We can accept that our bodies are changing and still work toward feeling strong. We can miss the years when our children needed us differently and still embrace this next chapter.
Letting go isn’t a single decision; it’s a practice. Some days I’m better at it than others. When I catch myself gripping tightly, I pause, take a breath, and make room for what is.
So tonight, I don’t need to figure everything out. I can enjoy the quiet, appreciate an old friend, and wonder what might be possible without pressure to make it happen right now.
We don’t have to love every change or feel comfortable with every uncertainty. We just have to allow ourselves to be human in the process.
And perhaps when we loosen our grip on how life is supposed to look, we make a little more room to appreciate the life we’re actually living.