Every once in a while, life throws us an anchor. A heavy weight that can keep a ship steady, but can also prevent it from sailing into the horizon. For nearly a decade, my anchor was a business I held close. It was an embodiment of dreams, ambition, and identity. But anchors, while providing stability, can also hold you down in turbulent waters, making it harder to stay afloat.
I remember the desperate attempts to stop a sinking boat with a bucket, the relentless work and dedication to stop the overwhelming influx of water, hoping for a reprieve. But some situations don’t allow for pauses, and they take more from you than they give. The strain on my mental and physical health was evident, but it took a life-altering tragedy – the death of someone close, someone my age, to snap me into introspection. It was a profound realization that we don't always have the luxury of time. That moment made me choose me.
The Cost of Holding On
When we talk about commitment and perseverance, we rarely discuss the toll it can take on one’s wellbeing. I felt it deeply, every day. Sleepless nights, anxious mornings, and a heart that felt the constant weight of responsibility. The data bore it out too – erratic bloodwork and a heart rate that told the story of relentless stress.
Yet, why did I, and why do so many of us, hold on? Partly it's the fear of letting others down, of admitting to ourselves that despite our best efforts, some stories don't have the endings we envisioned. But more profoundly, it’s about identity. Letting go felt akin to losing a part of myself.
The Liberation of Letting Go
Elizabeth Gilbert, in one of her evocative talks, referenced Joseph Campbell, emphasizing the importance of placing ourselves at the center of our circles. It's a visual that hit home. The circle represents our world, our priorities, our responsibilities, and yet, we often place ourselves on the periphery, almost an afterthought.
In the heart of my storm, I recognized that it had been years since I was genuinely at my circle's center. Like a relationship that began with love and promise but lost its way, I kept trying to salvage what once was. But when do we acknowledge that perhaps some things are beyond repair?
Navigating New Waters
In the time since walking away, there's been an overwhelming sense of rediscovery. The kind of profound joy and excitement about the future that I'd almost forgotten. More than anything, it's been a period of healing – emotionally, mentally, and physically.
The grief is there, of course. The loss of what was, of what could have been, and the many intertwined identities and securities. But grief and hope can coexist. Business is just that – business. It's essential, but it's not the essence of life. It’s not a matter of life or death. Life, with its vastness and potential, awaits beyond our anchors.
For anyone standing at such a crossroad, know this – it's okay to let go. It's okay to prioritize your well-being over everything else. It's not just about survival but about truly living. Sometimes, the most challenging decisions are the ones that free us.