Letting Go

I’ve said it before, but it’s worth saying again:
Our best qualities often walk a fine line with our worst ones. One of mine is the ability to see beauty where others don’t. I see potential—possibility—in people and things. That sounds admirable, and sometimes it is, but not always.

The truth is, not everyone wants to grow into their best self. And no matter how much we might want it for them, we can’t carry that dream alone. We can’t do the work for them.

In my creative work—designing jewelry, making art, writing poetry—I can shape raw materials and words into what I imagine. With people, it’s different. I can’t mold someone into who I believe they could become, no matter how clearly I see it.

With myself, I know I’m capable of more. I see what I can be, and I know that if I work toward it, I can likely get there. That kind of vision, when applied to others—especially people I love—is harder. It’s painful to see all they could be, to know with their intelligence, beauty, creativity… how much growth is possible, it hurts to watch someone I care about simply stop or not even start.

It’s natural to want those we love to rise to their full potential. But not everyone sees the world through the same eyes. Not everyone defines success the same way.

The dictionary says success is “a favorable or desired outcome.” But what’s favorable or desirable depends on who you’re asking—and when.

My own definition of success has changed many times. At one point, I believed success meant graduating, getting married, and having children. And while those were beautiful dreams, I’ve since learned that every mountaintop reveals another climb. My nature is to keep going, reaching, growing. But not everyone shares that instinct.

Some people reach their version of success—and stop. And that’s okay.
Because if it’s okay for them, it has to be okay for me too.

I’ve been learning to let go.
Letting go of the hopes and dreams I hold for others. Letting go of expectations and “what ifs.” I can only be responsible for my own journey. I want relationships where I’m met, seen, and heard—not where I’m teaching or parenting.

If others don’t want more, that’s their choice. But I won’t let their lack of luster dim my sparkle. I won’t let their complacency dull the magic I’ve worked so hard to protect in myself.

It’s taken me a long, long time to love myself enough to walk away from people who can’t, won’t, or don’t love themselves—or me. It’s taken even longer to learn how to choose myself, over and over again.

My hope is that you, too, learn to love and choose yourself, and surround yourself with those who reflect that love back.