The Art of Letting Go

My favorite movie quote, I think, of the 80's is from Risky Business. It is mentioned a couple of times throughout the film, but I feel holds the most weight in the last scene of the film: "Sometimes, you just gotta say, 'What the fuck.'" What does that mean to you? In the film, it seems to mean that you have to occasionally throw caution to the wind and take risks so you can enjoy great rewards. In the context of this post, I'd like to argue that it could mean that has difficult as it may be, you have to stop worrying, even about the major things in your life.

In 2004 my father was diagnosed with a relatively rare form of bone-marrow cancer. A physician by trade and a health-nut by choice, he was the epitome of physical fitness and scientific awareness. However, we now know he was probably sick long before the official disease diagnosis.

My father was never a happy man, nor has my mother ever been one to have a positive outlook on most things. Despite these elements to their personalities, they've been wonderful parents, equal parts love, support and discipline. Now that I'm 25, I see myself taking on nearly a reversed role of constant worry about their mental, physical and spiritual well-being. Since the onset of his illness, any negativity present in our lives has been amplified tremendously, thus we all feel the pain of his illness in a multitude of ways.

Part two of my discussion pertains more to myself, the point of which I will come to shortly. I have a male friend who is as charming as he is attractive, without even trying. He is one of those uniquely beautiful, yet humble individuals you rarely come across, and needless to say I have developed a heavy torch to carry for him. He, however, is still reeling from a previous breakup and aside from that would probably not be interested anyway. Last night, after a night of drinking, his roommate and I were chatting about the situation. He mentioned that this person knows how I feel, that its pretty obvious, gently and kindly implying that the feelings were not shared. I told the roommate, "I know and It's okay. I didn't know it was that obvious though, and I just don't want to make him uncomfortable. I've been pursued by friends I wasn't interested in romantically, and it's awkward." Surprised, the roommate didn't really respond with words, rather his silence indicated the surprise with which he absorbed what I had said. I continued, "I just feel like it's normal. Everyone has crushes on people that don't like them back. It's happened before, and it will happen again." The roommate, still baffled says, "you can not possibly be this cool about this." Oddly, I was, and I am. For some reason, I'm just not really that upset about it.

The point of the two divergent situations I just explained is that despite my adult life, I hold far more anxiety about my parent's lives than my own. I worry about them endlessly, though I have zero control over their attitudes and the situation in which they find themselves. Not just pertaining to my fathers physical health but far more with the behavior they exhibit.

Letting go of pain and anxiety is an art and a skill, probably weighted equally. There are steps to allowing yourself, to giving the GIFT to yourself, of not being miserable about things that you cannot control. Life is so short, and while I am young, I can wish for little more than to enjoy my youth and be a happy individual. I frequently have dreams that I am on dates with men or spending time with a boyfriend and my family barges in, ruining the interaction and destroying the potential for a relationship. Looking into my subconscious, it makes me wonder if the key to my building my own life and fruitful relationships is in fact, releasing the emotional energy tied to my family, specifically my Mom and Dad.

Identifying this is probably half the battle, so I credit myself being ahead of the game at twenty-five not only acknowledging this, but proactively releasing myself from the shackles. I guess in a way, I will only truly be free in my adult life when I just say, "what the fuck."





My Mom and I





Daddy's little girl, right?