It looked almost as if Zoey carried a severed limb in her mouth, the joint badly damaged and the tibia dangling lifelessly below her maw. She shook the thing, a victor with her prey, and the loose joint snapped and flapped in front of her. I recognized the raw, animalistic glee in her eyes.
“Zoey, what have you done to that barbell?!” When I bought the toy (at a rather inflated price, I might add), I was assured it was indestructible. Even the most “aggressive chewers” wouldn’t be able to break it.
Well, clearly they hadn’t met Ms. Zoey and her aggressive incisors.
She’s like the toddler with the decomposing teddy bear who still won’t give it up: Zoey loves her barbell more than almost any other toy (the exception being the Chuck-It™ “Flying Squirrel.”). So even though it’s already far past the end of its useful lifespan, she continues to chew that barbell, thrash it, romp with it, and request that I throw it across the room for her to retrieve.
Zoey and her second-favorite toy.
In fact, this is the second barbell she’s decimated. I detect the same pattern with this one: first, it exhibits a bit of strain at the seam, where the faux-barbell plates are attached to the shaft. A few more days, and the slight fissure transforms into a full-on laceration, the two sections tearing apart, akin to the severed limb I described above.
In the final stage, the side “plate” falls off entirely, leaving only one side attached. At that point, Zoey abandons the toy. It’s no longer symmetrical, likely the weight of it feels weird in her mouth, and there seems to be no more fun attached to flailing it.
In other words, unlike many humans, Zoey knows when to give up on something that has stopped serving her. She lets it go.
I’ve been guilty of it myself. In the heat of the moment, emotions high and criticisms volleyed indiscriminately, I might still cling to the long-ago event or action: “Well, remember when we were on vacation in Newfoundland in 2004 and you said you’d take care of the gift for the dog sitters? And then we showed up empty handed and I was MORTIFIED! You promised! And you didn’t do it! You never do what you say you’ll do!!”
Okay, that one is a fictional scenario. But you get the idea—dredging up old hurts that should have been put on the shelf decades ago. Why can’t we simply set aside those people and things that no longer serve us?
I have a friend who is still angry at her parents for something that happened when she was three years old. Whenever there’s a negative twist in her current relationship, she’s quick to recall that experience as the reason for her behavior: “If they hadn’t broken my trust back then, maybe I’d be better at trusting my husband now.”
Years ago, I had a friend who’d habitually show up late for our brunch or dinner dates. Sometimes it was only five minutes; other times, up to 35 minutes. As I waited at the table, anger would start to simmer until, by the time she arrived, it was at a rolling boil and I could barely contain my fury.
(I know; I’m anal that way. I once read one of those questionnaires in a woman’s magazine. The first question asked, “If someone you know shows up 5 minutes after the appointed time to your meeting, do you consider them late?” OF COURSE I consider them late! It’s five minutes AFTER the appointed time!! That’s late!!!!!).
After she joined me, I’d emit terse monosyllables in response to her questions, feign indifference about our food choices, refuse to offer the tiniest bit of good news during our conversation. After about 30 minutes of doling out this punishment, my mood softened and we got on with our meal.
Why did I continue to see her? Well, I adored this friend. Apart from the tardiness, she was great–-a sweet, generous, funny, kind and interesting person. So I continued to see her, all the while complaining bitterly to the hubs about how inconsiderate she was. Plus, I’d stress before our get-togethers, worried about just how late she’d be, how insulted I felt, and so on.
Wah, boo-hoo. Poor me.
The thing is, no matter how much we moan and complain about these people when they’re not around, that doesn’t change them. As Byron Katie says, when you fight with reality, you lose–but only 100% of the time.
So what can you do? Seems to me, in these situations we have three choices: accept the reality and stop complaining (ie, let it go); attempt to change the reality to meet our needs, or exit the situation if possible (sometimes, it’s only possible in our minds).
In the case of my friend, I eventually let her know how I felt. She was mortified and apologized profusely; she hadn’t even realized how late she was. And while she did attempt to be punctual thereafter, she didn’t always succeed.
So I determined to be like Zoey, and let it go. I started bringing a book with me to read while I waited. When she arrived–whenever it was–I greeted her warmly and put any thoughts of resentment out of my head. And we always ended up having a lovely time.
Events long in the past, or animosity toward someone who’s no longer around for whatever reason, can be trickier. In these cases, clearly, the option to change the situation doesn’t exist (because unfortunately we still haven’t mastered that ole space-time curvature to accommodate our desire for time travel). For now, then, the only options are to (a) forgive the person and let it go; or (b) dwell on the past and continue to suffer over something that cannot be altered.
Choose option (b) and you simply perpetuate your own suffering. You know, like taking poison and expecting the other person to die. They have no idea you’re still angry and likely won’t be affected at all–you’re the only one who suffers in that case.
And so, my friend, this week’s challenge is to choose a personal hurt or affront you are carrying—and release it.
Release the anger, release the blame, release the thing that no longer serves you and is likely poisoning your mental and physical wellbeing. Unloose all that negative emotion to the ether and instead, move on to the next barbell, the one that’s still whole and will bring with it more joy.
What do you say? Let’s let it GO.
Follow up to last week’s challenge: Remember those who treat you well
The actual challenge last week was not only to remember someone, but let them know that you appreciated how they treat (or treated) you. I had visions of contacting old teachers, bosses, neighbors and the like.
The reality, sadly, refused to comply and I wasn’t able to locate contact information for many of those people. I wanted desperately to write a note to my old Japanese pen pal, with whom I’d corresponded for decades before we lost touch. She’d come to visit me overflowing with gifts (authentic kimono, tea set, matcha tea–before it was even known in North America–and more), and we’d had a lovely visit during which we bonded as any twenty-somethings would do.
When I scoured the internet for her, however, there were no signs to be found. Is it possible that one Facebook profile without an actual picture could be hers? I took a chance and left a DM. (So far, no response).
When I came up even more empty-handed with one of my old coaches, I decided to look closer to the present.
I sent a text to a friend with whom I’d had a falling out during the pandemic. We hadn’t been in touch for several months. I told her what she meant to me and that I was sorry we were no longer speaking.
That outreach led to a 90-minute phone conversation and some heated discussion. In the end, though, we both decided that our friendship was worth retaining. We spoke again a few days later (only a few minutes that time, but it was very pleasant). And so, I hope, a friendship has been rekindled.
I know that reaching out doesn’t have to be quite so emotional or monumental. As I mentioned last week, a former coach of mine spends about 15 minutes each morning writing a card or two to someone in his world he wants to thank. It could be the guy he sees each morning behind the coffee shop counter, or the colleague who helped him tweak his email sequence, or the personal trainer who has since moved out of town.
If you think about it, there’s always someone out there you could conceivably thank for treating you right. Why not let them know they’re appreciated?
And now, I’d love to hear from YOU! (Actually, I implore you! Please leave a comment and let me know someone is out there. What do you think? You can answer a question or drop an observation, idea, or any other comment. I promise to respond!).
Did you have a favorite toy as a child that you refused to relinquish when it was time? What was it?
At what point do you consider someone to be late to a meeting? One minute? Five? An hour? How do you handle people who are perpetually late?
Who had the greatest impact on you as a child? Have you been in touch with the person as an adult?
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I like contrasting this idea of "letting things go" with your earlier post about forgiveness. As you pointed out, letting go includes things besides forgiveness. A few things I need to let go of: 1) The old wool cardigan in my closet. While it's still as soft and warm as when I bought it 10 years go, it just doesn't do it for me anymore. 2) The Advent calendars that are STILL on back-order, despite having ordered them 3 weeks ago. At this point, the thought of them is bringing me anything but cheer. 3) The belief that, if only I changed - if only I was a little bit better at this, or a little less like that - I'd like myself more. It's a thought that keeps us withholding self-acceptance for "that moment when", which somehow never seems to arrive no matter how much we achieve. Time to try a different approach...