Leaving Room

A childhood friend recently sent me this message, and I felt compelled to share it. It is my hope that reading it may help you as much as writing it helped me. I have no expertise, experience, or education in psychology, any thoughts I share are simply that.

“Remember when you were telling me about ‘leaving room’ for things in life (2022)? Did that assume one would need to let go first to create room? Friendly question 🙏🙂”

It’s such a gentle, profound question—and one I’ve been sitting with.

There are things in life that can coexist peacefully, and others that cannot. Emotions like love are infinite—we don’t run out of love. But time, energy, and attention are finite. We must choose where we place them.

Throughout my life, I’ve moved on from people, places, roles, and identities. Some of those parts of my past have traveled with me, evolving as I’ve evolved. Others I had to release—they no longer fit who I was becoming. We outgrow things, sometimes slowly, sometimes all at once. What once brought us joy, comfort, or a sense of belonging may no longer serve us. The longing fades, the security unravels, the excitement dims. And yet, in that shedding, there is often unexpected freedom—room to rise, to stretch, to become.

Some parts of me have remained constant. I have always been a creative—whether through poetry, parenting, painting, designing jewelry, or making a home. That creative thread has been a steady lifeline, offering continuity and grounding through the shifting tides of life. It’s helped me grow stronger and more resilient, even as everything else changed.

I can only imagine where you are right now—standing at the edge of something new. Change, no matter how necessary or welcome, often feels terrifying. I remind myself in those moments that our brains don’t always know the difference between fear and excitement. It’s why a scream on a roller coaster can sound like terror or joy—we get to decide. You get to decide. Choose excitement. Keep reminding yourself of that choice, so your mind doesn’t default to fear out of old habit.

We are energy, and emotions are energy in motion. They can fuel us or drain us, depending on how we meet them. When we’re young, we develop responses to keep ourselves safe. But those same responses, as we grow, can become limitations. At some point, we must stop simply reacting and begin intentionally acting—choosing what truly serves us now.

I know I haven’t directly answered your question, but I believe you already hold the answer inside you.

Here’s what I do believe:

Love is infinite. The more you give, the more you have. No one can take the love within you—it’s yours, always.

Leaving room means creating space for life to unfold, not forcing it. It means trusting that you are exactly where you are meant to be in this moment. Whatever your spiritual beliefs may be, know this: you are loved, and you are not alone. I believe in God, and I believe that if things aren’t okay right now, then it simply means the story isn’t finished yet.

You are someone who has known deep sorrow and great loss—because you have also known deep love. That is a blessing, even when it hurts.

In the last five years, I feel like I’ve stepped into a new life. I’ve finally come home to the person I was always meant to be. It’s never too late to begin again.

And I want you to know this: I will always be here. You do not walk this path alone. Reach out. So many people helped me climb out of the wreckage of my old life—I would be honored to do the same for you.

Lastly, I believe that those we’ve loved and lost are never truly gone. Just as your children remain with you even when they’re away, those who have passed are still with us. Love doesn’t disappear. It expands. And those who loved us in this life would want us to love fiercely and fully again.

So yes, leave room—for healing, for growth, for the unexpected beauty that’s still on its way.

Sending love & light,