The Art of Letting Go

Having control over everything I put in my mouth made me feel safe. I wasn't under-eating by any means... quite the opposite! I loved to eat and was, thankfully, able to eat a lot at the time. I often started my day with a giant stack of French Toast or pancakes, and still had visible abs. As long as I prepared them and knew how to account for them, it was smooth sailing. 

Eating foods I didn't prepare and wasn't exactly sure how to track gave me a sense of unease that was sometimes as strong as anxiety. My mind would start to wander off to the next morning and what number would be on the scale or what I would look like in the mirror... would I still be able to see all 6 abs?! Those wandering thoughts stole me away from the present moment as I obsessively stressed about what the near future would hold for the body I'd worked so hard to perfect. My chest would get tight, I would become irritable, and it was nearly impossible to enjoy the meal that was my source of obsession in the first place. Control equated to peace, calm, and a false sense of happiness for me. On the flip side, not having control felt like a state of panic and chaos. It made me feel completely unsafe and vulnerable to danger. 

When I sent my mom a menu for my 31st birthday, it felt like a safe decision. It would not only consist of foods I could track confidently, but she would make food I really loved and enjoyed, including a white chocolate skillet cookie I sent her a recipe for (all so I could track it accurately). 

Usually we would go out to eat for my birthday, but as I turned 31, I had become particularly hyper-focused on my diet and fitness. Plus, having a nice meal at my parents' house with my best friend joining would be so nice and intimate. Since I had moved to Nashville years prior, I always cherished moments I was able to spend with my family and friends back home. 

I drove in from Nashville on the evening of the dinner. My mom was there to greet me in the driveway as I pulled up in my car. Before I could even grab my overnight bag, she wrapped me up in a huge bear hug while singing a boisterous rendition of "Happy Birthday." Then she rushed upstairs to finish cooking my birthday meal. 

She had already baked the skillet cookie and was so proud to show me the finished product. My excitement and contentment to be home again quickly shifted as I switched to my critical, investigator mode. I might have given an underwhelming offering of appreciation for the cookie before interrogating her about the baking process: "Did you use the baking mix I asked for?"

"Well," she said hesitantly, "I couldn't find the exact brand, but I found something similar..." her voice trailed off as she reached for a box in the pantry. As the words passed through her lips, my chest began to tighten and my mind began to spin. The part of me that thrived on being able to control every detail of my life -- especially the food I ate -- suddenly went into a tailspin. I informed her, quite abruptly, that I didn't know if I would be able to eat it, since the macros wouldn't match what I planned for, due to the different mix she used. My brow furrowed, and the edges of my mouth turned down. I saw down at my chair at our kitchen table, arms crossed, and sulked. 

From the moment my body language changed and those words came out of my mouth, my mom's entire demeanor changed too. She looked defeated, hurt, crushed. She was racking her brain for a way to make it right, to make me happy. She apologized for her "mistake" and suggested I just eat a little less, expressing that she hoped I could still enjoy it. I shrugged my shoulders as I muttered "I guess." Inside of me, a wave of self hatred rose up through my body as I began to witness the impact of my actions and words.

Anytime I lost my perception of control, I became angry, cold, distant if not dissociative, and disregarded everyone else's feelings, opinions, wants and needs. I'm sure I was quite a treat to be around. I never stayed in those states for too long, but there was always a thawing out process that had to take place before I'd come around and return to a more normal, pleasant state. 

By the time my best friend arrived for dinner, I had loosened up. It seemed like my mom had recovered from the emotional blow I dealt too. We all enjoyed the meal (it was delicious), the fellowship, and even the homemade skillet cookie. Everyone ended the evening in seemingly good spirits, and I'm sure my mom was relieved and happy to watch me eat the dessert. 

Usually I agree with "all's well that ends well," but this particular birthday experience is an exception. There have been plenty of times my controlling nature and the aftermath of losing control has hurt the people I love. This incident just happens to stick out in my mind -- maybe because it's one of the last major incidents that occurred before I loosened my tight grip on life. Maybe because it was the last birthday I had before my mom got sick. Maybe because the hurt I caused still lives so vividly in my mind. Maybe because even with all of the self reflection I've done, the growth that's taken place inside of me, and the grace I extend myself (now), I still can't get over being such an ASS over a cookie cake... especially to someone as amazingly lovely as my mom. I have no doubt my mom forgave me quickly... Lord knows it's not the first time she'd been on the receiving end of one of my meltdowns. Despite that, it's still taking me a long time to forgive myself. My birthday is this month, and this memory arises every year. I'm still carrying it with me. I'm actively working on the self-forgiveness, and I'm sure I will get there one day. My main motive for sharing is in hopes of saving you from the same or similar pain. 

Maybe you can relate to my obsessive control over food. Or maybe for you it's exercise, or keeping a particular routine, the money in your bank account, or maintaining a certain perception of yourself. I think a lot of us have those "things" in life we feel like we absolutely must keep control over to feel like we're safe, like everything will be ok. And I get that, trust me. I've been there. I know what it feels like to fear that if one thing slips, your whole life could crumble. Those fears of losing control are usually rooted in parts of our past that were very real and still feel threatening in the present.

Letting those things go is one of the hardest, while simultaneously one of the most liberating things you'll ever do for yourself. At 31, I never thought I'd be happy working out just three times a week, or taking rest when I felt like it, or enjoying dessert with reckless abandon. Today I could eat a whole skillet cookie without knowing the macros without hesitation! But as I approach 38, not only have I created a healthy balance in life, but I no longer live my life fearing "what if I lose control over x, y, z?!" I am much happier not being controlled by my own control mechanisms. My relationships are happier and healthier, especially the relationship I have with myself. Guilt isn't constantly taking up residence in my mind. Life is better, and I feel much more free. 

I didn't get here suddenly. It didn't happen after one healing session. It's been a gradual process of slowly letting go of old habits, and with each one I release, being able to see and feel that I am indeed safe without those old parts of me. With every step forward, I feel my way into more safety as I let go of the old, piece by piece. It hasn't always been a linear progression, but I've kept going by continuing to move through it as I realize how much sweeter life is on the other side of control. 

If this resonates for you, I encourage you to practice the art of letting go now. Don't wait. Don't keep holding on. There's SO much life to fully enjoy on the other side of what you're trying to control.