The Art of Letting Go

LIFE LESSONS

before it breaks us

I couldn’t sleep that night. I was lying down with my eyes wide awake in the dark.

Out of nowhere, a mobile charger fell on top of my head with an electric spark. I immediately took my phone and texted my boss at work that I wouldn’t be coming to the office the next day.

It felt so good to find a reason not to go to work. It was a huge relief.
My brother, who watched the entire scene, asked me if I was okay. I told him how much I dreaded going to work and how disinterested I was in my current role. I asked him if there was a way out.

He casually answered, “The answer is in your question. Quit your job and find work elsewhere.”

For the first time in four years, I considered quitting my job an option. But I was terrified to make the move.

I had struggled enough to land my first job, and in the last four years, I had invested enough time and effort to deliver my best work. I wanted to stay longer, hoping to be rewarded big one day.

But my brother sowed the seed of quitting in my mind that night.

I continued to show up at work the following few weeks, and out of nowhere, one fine afternoon, my boss invited me to a conference room for a meeting.

I sincerely thought it was to discuss my promotion. Instead, my manager informed me they had to let me leave the account because they had budget issues.

I will never forget that confused look in front of the mirror. I was genuinely concerned about how to react to this situation. I felt helpless but, at the same time, not so desperate to hold on to my current job. Remember, I was finding reasons not to go to work.

Life has a weird way of pushing us forward, close to our dreams, by throwing surprising problems at us, always at the most appropriate time.

In exactly two weeks, I found a better job, better pay, and a better title. Even better, I flew to my favourite destination in the following month, where dreams started shaping into reality.

However, it wasn’t the only time I struggled with letting go.

A few years back, when my daughter was almost two, my body clock was ticking to plan for the second baby. But it was around time I had just finished my first half marathon.

I was unstoppable with my runs. There were days I showed up at the park and ran for hours, getting into my zone with the rhythm of my footsteps. I ran through the fog, rain, and sunny days.

One fine morning, I received a text from my friend about a “smoke alert” from the refinery in our neighbourhood. She cautioned me to keep the doors and windows of our home closed. I forwarded her text to my husband, who was home sleeping with the baby, and I continued with my run.

My dopamine-charged mind convinced me that even if something worse happened, I could still see it from the park and run home faster than the fire.

Now you know how madly I was in love with my runs. Every step counted. But I also had this urge to start working on the second pregnancy before it was too late.

So, one day, while talking to my best friend on the phone, I asked her how I would ever know if I was ready to have a second baby. 
She said without a second thought, “You will never be ready. You just have to plan it.”

That day, I decided to give myself a couple more months before we started planning and finished my race.

A year later, I sat across my bedroom window with a newborn in my arms, staring at the mountains in my laptop wallpaper.

Sometimes, life forces our hands. Other times, we need to leap forward and take a call. Either way, letting go to move forward is an art, and the more we practice it, the more we master the art.

© Tamil, 2025.

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