Fall: The Season of Letting Go

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Manal Haji Egeh

 What does it mean to let go? As the fall season begins, this is the question I reflect on. I think about all the things I want to release: shame, self-doubt, anxiety, self-criticism, painful memories—the list always feels endless. I used to believe that to allow for rebirth and transformation in the spring, I needed to start preparing my internal garden by letting what needs to die—like negative emotions—die, and plant new seeds. My work, I thought, would be to nurture these seeds and patiently wait for them to sprout in the spring, with my problems replaced by the beautiful flowers that would eventually bloom. But then I realized I was trying to control things again, and isn’t that the opposite of letting go?

A few weeks ago, I started reading Full Catastrophe Living by Jon Kabat-Zinn, and it shifted my understanding of what it means to let go. He wrote: “Letting go is a way of letting things be, of accepting things as they are.” What does this bring up for you? Take a moment to re-read that sentence and notice what thoughts, feelings, or even sensations it stirs in your body.

For me, it brings up anxiety. How can I possibly accept things as they are when there’s so much I want to change about myself? I don’t want to live with shame, self-doubt, anxiety, or self-criticism. I don’t want to be in pain. I don’t want to suffer. My clients feel the same way—they come to therapy because they want to feel better. Wouldn’t accepting things as they are make them feel worse? If I told them to accept their feelings as they are, I’m not sure they’d come back for another session. This is my anxiety speaking. I can feel it immediately: my hands start to sweat, my breathing becomes shallow, my chest tightens, and my whole body tenses. Then a thought arises: What if I accept this anxiety?

This is the opposite of what I usually do, but now I’m curious. I wonder what would happen if I didn’t respond to my anxiety by doing more—my usual tactic to avoid feeling my emotions. I take a full, deep belly breath and let it bring me back to the present. I focus on my calm, gentle breathing and feel my feet grounded on the floor. This is an incredible tool we all have access to anytime, anywhere. I’ll need it now as I sit with my anxiety, which is really scared of letting go and accepting things as they are.

I place my hand on my chest where the tightness is, and I speak to myself gently: “Anxiety, I’m here, and I’m ready to listen. What do you need to tell me?” I notice some resistance. Can this anxious part of me really trust that I’ll listen non-judgmentally when I’ve spent so long avoiding it? I wait. I don’t push. I stay present with it. I notice that the tightness in my chest is getting worse. I hold my breath a little longer. I feel the urge to get up and walk away. I notice all of this, and I accept it as it is. I’m not trying to get anywhere; I just want to be right here, in this moment, with my anxiety. This is how I will rebuild trust within myself. 

Something stirs in my heart—I feel the need to apologize to my anxiety. I want to take responsibility for the hurt I’ve caused. It may not be ready to forgive, but I hope it can at least feel my sincerity. I used to hate this part of myself. I hated being anxious. I thought it made me weak, especially in front of others. I wanted to be confident, and I felt that anxiety was holding me back from becoming my ideal self. I used to wonder how I could possibly accept a part of myself that had caused so much suffering. This led to shame. I was ashamed of my anxiety, which meant I was ashamed of being me, since it was part of me. For a long time, I believed that if I surrendered to shame, my secrets would stay hidden in the dark, away from others’ judgment. I believed that if I worked harder—took more training, read more books, got a PhD—I’d finally be perfect, finally be enough. That was a lie. I believed that if I kept being nice and sweet, I wouldn’t be rejected. That was a lie. I believed that if I was agreeable and always considered what others needed, I could please everyone. That, too, was a lie. Trying to be perfect, too nice, and overly agreeable made me more anxious and sad.

As these memories surface, I allow them to be. I try my best to stay present, even though it’s hard. With my head slightly bowed, hand still on my heart, I apologize: “Anxiety, I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away for so long. I’m sorry I hurt you. I want you to know that you belong here, and I accept you as you are.” I notice the tightness in my chest beginning to soften. I wait for whatever comes next. I am ready to receive. My heart feels open. 

Now, I feel different emotions: sadness and grief. I sit with them and listen again. It’s taken so long to get here, but I’m here now. I accept. This fall, I am ready to let go and accept things as they are. I accept all my emotions as part of me, and I’m ready to listen to them. This time, I’m not trying to go anywhere. I am staying exactly where I am, meeting each moment as it comes with presence.

Accepting things as they are doesn’t mean giving up. It’s the first step in a lifelong journey of becoming a fuller, deeper, and more authentic human being. It means living from the heart and soul.

What do you need to let go this fall? What do you need to accept?

May you find ease in letting go and accepting things as they are.

May you be kind and tender to all the parts of you.