Letting go of what no longer serves

Jan 20, 2023 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Women's Wisdom

A few weeks back I posted a quote from Adam Grant’s book, Think Again on IG and FB:

“. . . let go of the knowledge and opinions that are no longer serving you well . . . “

Let’s start with three questions:

  • What are some of the things you learned (often like the back of your hand) that are still present in your mind and heart but really don’t “fit” anymore?
  • What are some of the opinions you inherited and imbibed from your family of origin, from the culture, and about yourself, that sit within you unchecked and undisputed?
  • What are the precepts, doctrines, even rules you took in (and took on) over the years that, when you look closely, are things you don’t actually believe or follow anymore?

Until we honestly name the knowledge, opinions, and beliefs that have shaped us, we can’t hope to let them go. Four personal examples (of many) that I grew up with:

#1:
Knowledge: a clean house is imperative.
Opinion: anything less is unacceptable.
Belief: my worth is connected to, even measured by, not being messy (yes, in my home and other spaces; but more, in life).

#2:
Knowledge: vote “yes” for any and all tax increases.
Opinion: not voting “yes” for tax increases is ignorant and wrong.
Belief: intelligent people vote the same way as me.

#3:
Knowledge: thin is healthy and desirable.
Opinion: not thin is lazy and irresponsible.
Belief: my weight determines the quality of my character (and others’)

#4:
Knowledge: attending church every Sunday is the right thing to do.
Opinion: goodness is equated with discipline and devotion.
Belief: my value (and eternal security) is based on my obedience.

*sigh*

So, if I do not name these specific things — the knowledge, opinions, and beliefs that have shaped me — it is dangerously easy to wander through life believing that:

  • my worth is connected to perfection
  • people who aren’t like me are stupid
  • if I’m not thin, I’m not a good person
  • unless I’m devout and faithful, I’m doomed

But when I do name them, I can see them for what they are and intentionally let them go.

  • my worth is a given, no matter what
  • difference is respected
  • my weight has nothing to do with anything
  • my value is intact and inherent; religion has nothing to do with it

I already know these four things, of course. Over time and in so many ways I have “let go of the knowledge and opinions that are no longer serving [me] well.” Still, to see them in black and white — where they came from, how they were reinforced and interpreted, and then intentionally releasing myself from their grip? Mmmmm. Good stuff!

Then there’s this: I can reverse-engineer this same process to discern and affirm the knowledge, opinions, and beliefs that I WANT to hold onto, even develop and deepen:

  • What is the belief that I want to hold?
  • What opinions / thoughts would support that belief?
  • What knowledge would support that opinion and thought; what can I learn?

[For the record: I grew up with lots of knowledge, opinions, and beliefs that I still value and cherish. I’ve chose some very obvious and overly-blatant examples here in order to make my point.]

Let me add a final example by way of a story:

I believed in my heart-of-hearts that divorce was NOT the right thing to do. I had a whole truckload, a whole lifetime, of opinions and “knowledge” to back that up. So, when I found myself in the hardest seasons of my marriage, I could not let go of that belief. I argued with myself (and others) from every angle, trying to see a way clear, a way through, a way out, but because that belief was so deeply entrenched, I stayed cemented in place for a very, very, very long time.

I was unable to let go of the knowledge, opinions, and beliefs that were no longer serving me because I didn’t ever consider the possibility that I could! Was such a thing even allowed? They felt like they were in my DNA, in my bloodstream, part and parcel with who I was.

I remember waking up early one morning to a thought that had never crossed my mind:

Maybe, just maybe, my value and worth were not defined by me-as-couple. Maybe, just maybe I was of value and worth because I was me, period.

I know! This sounds so obvious when I type it out. But I’m telling you: it was a radical idea for me, given the knowledge, opinions, and beliefs I’d grown up with.

To consider the possibility that I could change my mind, change my beliefs, and let go of those that were no longer serving me felt radical and shocking. But once this new thought had taken root, I could clearly see what was NOT serving me. I couldn’t not see! And it wasn’t too much of a leap from there to consider that maybe, just maybe, divorce wasn’t right or wrong at all. Maybe, just maybe, it was a way to honor myself and even my husband (though he wasn’t quite as convinced of this) because I would be honest, in-integrity, and whole.

When I let go of that belief, I was finally able to hold onto myself. I have so many stories like this one, so many experiences of becoming aware of a belief that was so deeply embedded and reinforced that it didn’t occur to me (until it did) that a) it was definitely not serving me; and b) I could actually let it go.

I’ve listened to thousands of stories from women over the years and witnessed the same: seemingly poured-in-concrete beliefs (often about self) that, once exposed, can be released — allowing for freedom, strength, and sovereignty. It’s a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I wonder what stories have come to mind for you today. I wonder what knowledge, opinions, and beliefs you hold that no longer serve. I wonder what you might let go of in order to hold onto yourself. And I hope that you will do just that.

May it be so.

If my writing resonates, I’d be honored if you’d subscribe to A Sunday Letter. A long-form email every week, from my heart to yours. Learn more.

Letting go of happy endings . . .

Sep 30, 2022 | Hope & Encouragement, Sacred Stories, Women's Wisdom

I’ve been ensconced in fiction lately. There is a LOT to be said for getting lost in the pages of a book, stepping vicariously into the realities of others, witnessing their happy endings and imagining them as my own. I often feel a palpable ache when I turn the last page; I’ve become so attached to the characters. It’s like their story is somehow connected to mine.

Which, of course, it is. That is the power of story! When we immerse ourselves in it, we more acutely feel our own desire, disappointment, loss, loves, trials, tribulations, and hope. The very best stories are ultimately less about the characters themselves and far more about us! Even in the most fantastical or tragic of tales, we find ourselves between the lines; we see aspects of ourselves mirrored back in actuality and in aspiration, again and again.

For all that is the same, one thing is vastly different: most of the stories we read or watch have a happy ending. Perhaps not perfect or Disney-esque, but wrapped up nicely with some kind of bow, some kind of resolution, something that makes sense of all that’s gone before. Understandably, we want the same for ourselves! And there is absolutely nothing wrong or wasted with such a wish. The problem occurs when we compare the goodness or worth of our own story, our very life, to that which can (only) be captured so neatly in fiction.

Unlike the books we read or movies we watch, our lives are not neatly packaged. They are messy and unresolved, difficult and confusing. The plot is not clear. The characters are conflicted. Bad things happen. Good does not always triumph. Any sort of ending feels illusive and often far from happy. Ours is a story that is “true.” 

In Untamed, Glennon Doyle says this:

“The truest, most beautiful life never promises to be an easy one. We need to let go of the lie that it’s supposed to be.”

She’s right, of course. Not “happily ever after,” but most definitely true (and beautiful).

I would love to tell you – with conviction and personal experience – that “everything works together for good;” that your endurance (and compliance) guarantee success and/or bliss and/or endless love; that if you just persevere, everything will eventually turn rosy and bright – an amazing story with an enviable “happily ever after.” I cannot promise or speak to a bit of this. But if you want to know what is true, I can both promise and speak to that with vast personal experience and lots of conviction.

The hardest realities in your story, the loose ends, the impossible twists and turns, seemingly no fairy godmother (or god) to be found, are exactly what make your story worth being told…and lived. 

Little consolation, I know, but no less accurate or important to know and name.

When I look back over my life thus far, I see so much that I would have never predicted or foretold. The most painful seasons have invited profound growth and transformation. My biggest mistakes have been converted into a mostly-unswerving belief in my value and worth. My fear and anxiety, depression and grief, anger and frustration have somehow, miraculously and unwittingly, become the most gracious of teachers, the closest of companions, and my dearest of friends. No pretty bow. No tidy conclusion. Unwieldy and unpredictable. Hardly easy or perfect, but honest and real and “true,” even beautiful.

Pages worth turning. Stories worth telling. A life worth living. And uniquely, surprisingly, amazingly…mine.

“Happily ever after” remains to be seen. It’s all that happens along the way that matters most, that we remember, that makes a story – your story – worth writing, telling, and living. 

Women: Choose the Unfamiliar

Aug 10, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Women's Wisdom

I am here again, in a familiar place feeling something I’ve felt before, wondering why it’s still here, why I didn’t deal with it more fully before. But I’m glad I have a second chance at it…and I know that if I need a third chance, I’ll get it. I also know that if it comes up again, I’ll recognize it sooner and deal with it more readily. This is growth. And, I am happy to be alive. ~ Jan Denise

I just got off the phone with a dear friend, a wise woman, an amazing individual. She talked to me of a current relationship for which she’s had much hope. She told me how it has progressed, how she has known desire for connection that has not dared surface in relationships-past, how beautiful it has been to be pursued, to be seen, to be heard, to be beautiful. She also told me about some unsettling patterns and behaviors that aren’t beautiful, aren’t honoring, aren’t worthy of who she is. So disappointing. And so familiar.

Why is that? Why do we, as women who are strong, courageous, risky, and beautiful, so often find ourselves in all-too-familiar relationships that are not what we want or deserve?

This is nothing new. I’m instantly reminded of the plethora of bestsellers over the years that speak to this pattern, such as Women Who Love Too Much and He’s Just Not That In To You. Clearly, it’s not an oddity. It’s a pattern. It’s familiar.

What would it mean for women to choose to function in unfamiliar ways; to let discomfort, in many ways, be a discerning tool? What would it mean to be in relational patterns – whether at work, with family, or in love – that are not what we’re used to, that don’t even feel all that comfortable (at least to begin with)?

Maybe we need to do unfamiliar things in order to break old styles and move into new, healthy ones.

I’m thinking unfamiliarity, albeit risky and dangerous, might just be a better choice – professionally, personally, emotionally, and relationally.

Eleanor Roosevelt is quoted as saying, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” How’s that for unfamiliar? And how’s that for moving us into realms we’d not normally go, places we’d not normally frequent, careers we’d not normally pursue, relationships we’d not normally consider.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s something to be learned – or at least heeded – when we find ourselves in a place that feels familiar. Maybe that’s the moment when we can best discern that we’d might want to get the hell out of that situation and into something new, something surprising, something unfamiliar…something hope-full.

I don’t know…these are unfamiliar and somewhat uncomfortable thoughts for me – particularly if I actually apply them!

As is often the case, I’m drawn to the stories in Scripture. I think the case could be made that “unfamiliar,” at least in relation to God, is more the rule than the exception. Many things were asked of those who populate these stories that were scary, risky, dangerous, unfamiliar…and ultimately full of hope. God’s way of relating with us seems to be to invite us into the unfamiliar so that we can know something far more of God, of self, of one another. Hmmm.

Worth thinking about…maybe even worth choosing to actually do!

Courage is the power to let go of the familiar. ~ Raymond Lindquist