{{This post is part of #reverb10, an annual event and month-long online initiative to reflect on this year and manifest what's next for 2011.
Today's prompt: Let go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?}}
After talking to a whore friend about today's prompt, I instantly thought of writing about letting go of my [former] best friend or letting go of a damaged relationship that I held onto for so long, but I realize that would be too easy because I've already blogged about that stuff. You - and I - already know about that stuff.
Letting go, of anything, is always the hardest part. Because we don't realize just how difficult the process is until we're right in the thick of it. But letting go is important in discovering what's important, who our true friends are, what we really deserve in a relationship, and how far we've come over the years. If we held onto everything, we wouldn't get anywhere, right?
This year, I made a commitment to myself, to work through and let go of the raw, heart-wrenching pain of losing my parents. Because at age 12 I didn't understand what losing a father really meant. And at age 20, I was too busy trying to finish school to grieve properly for my mother. This year was by far the hardest with Mother's Day, Father's Day, and the holidays. While I believe that everything happens for a reason, I also believe that everything hurts for a reason. The pain we feel is caused by someone or something. The pain I felt earlier this year was by far the worst since losing both of my parents.
Letting go wasn't easy, and I'm still not completely 'there' yet. I know I won't be 'there' for a very long time, if ever, but it took lots of tears, lots of reflection, lots of acceptance and lots of honesty for me to get to where I am today - and where I hope to be in the future. It took spending most nights crying myself to sleep just so I could feel something other than numbness. It took sitting in my room alone, consumed by sadness, just so I could acknowledge the pain.
I've made some incredible strides in letting go of this pain. I can finally tell a story about my parents and not well up. I can finally talk about my father's suicide [somewhat] openly and not break down in tears. It's not easy, but it's progress. Big, big progress. Monumental steps in letting go of all the raw, heart-wrenching pain I felt for the last seven years.
Because once you hit rock bottom, there's only one way up. And I know I'll get there. Some day.
* title of this post can be heard in Hanging by a Moment by Lifehouse
