The older I get, the more I realize that “letting go” isn’t some dramatic, candlelit ritual where you burn letters and cry in front of a mirror.
Sometimes it’s quiet.
Sometimes it’s slow.
Sometimes it feels like waking up one morning and realizing, “I don’t recognize myself anymore — and that’s why I need to change things.”
Before this year closes, there are three things I’m choosing to release — not because I’m bitter, not because I’m dramatic, but because I finally love myself enough to stop carrying what’s hurting me.
1. The version of me that pretends everything is fine
For years, I mastered the art of being “okay.”
It became my costume, my shield, my passport to surviving days when I didn’t know where to place my pain.
But pretending to be fine is exhausting.
It’s waking up tired even after sleeping.
It’s saying “I’m good” when your voice is cracking.
It’s laughing with friends but feeling hollow.
As 2026 approaches, I’m letting go of this version of me — the one that stays silent just to make sure no one gets uncomfortable.
I want to be honest.
I want to feel things fully.
I want to stop apologizing for having emotions.
I am choosing authenticity over emotional performance.
2. The fear of disappointing people
This one’s heavy because it’s rooted in childhood — in wanting to be liked, accepted, approved.
I’ve lived so much of my life afraid of being misunderstood or judged.
I would go out of my way to please people who wouldn’t even cross the street for me.
But here’s the truth I’m learning:
People will misunderstand you anyway.
People will judge you anyway.
People will talk anyway.
So why sacrifice yourself just to keep the peace?
I’m done shrinking myself to fit into other people’s comfort zones.
I’m done saying yes when my soul is screaming no.
I’m done molding myself into someone who is “easy to love” or “easy to manage.”
I’d rather disappoint others than disappoint myself.
3. Friends who talk shit about me behind my back
Let’s talk about this — because this is the one that stings the most.
This year revealed faces I wasn’t ready to see.
People I trusted.
People I welcomed into my life.
People I held with softness…
turning around and bruising my name in rooms I wasn’t in.
It hurts differently when the betrayal comes wrapped in laughter — when they call you “friend” but drag you the moment you turn your back.
But here’s what I’ve accepted:
Loyalty isn’t just about who stands beside you.
It’s about who stands up for you when you’re not around.
It’s about who doesn’t join the laughter when the joke is at your expense.
So yes — I’m releasing them.
Not with anger.
Not with drama.
Just with clarity.
If you talk shit about me, you lose access to me.
Simple.
Clean.
No second chances.
I deserve honest friendships.
I deserve kindness that’s real — not performative.
I deserve people who protect my name when I’m not in the room.
Letting go isn’t always peaceful.
Sometimes it’s a little painful, a little awkward, a little lonely.
But it’s also powerful.
Because every time you release something that doesn’t serve you, you make space for something that finally will.
As 2026 approaches, I’m choosing peace.
I’m choosing truth.
I’m choosing myself — fully, loudly, unapologetically.