Letting Go Isn’t Enough
Sitting on the table I heard the paper crinkle beneath me as I shifted my weight. Sometimes I feel like all I do is shift my weight. I heard the technician say something about needing a different cuff because she would get a better reading. Then she reached behind me and brought forth the other blood pressure cuff. The one for arms that were too big for the standard adult cuff.
Apparently, I was too big.
Now, this little interaction didn’t change who I was or what my blood pressure would read. But that didn’t mean it was without consequence.
I thought about it, tucked secretly in the back of my mind, and my identity seemed to wrap itself around this cuff tighter and tighter until I could no longer separate the two.
And somehow throughout the day I realized that life is like that.
A million little things that we choose to let go of or to hold onto.
A million little things that we dismiss or we blow up like a balloon until they loom over us fragile and unpredictable.
A million little things that somehow don’t matter except the one that we can’t seem to let go of.
My body was the same size before stepping into that exam room as it was when I stepped out and into the rest of my day. So why did it feel so different?
Maybe it’s because I chose the wrong thing to feed. When we feed the feelings swirling inside, they get bigger. I chose to give life to this one little interaction, blowing air into what started as an empty balloon. And as I forced feelings into that place it became bigger and bigger until it consumed my thoughts. I realized the only way to make it smaller was to let it go.
But sometimes when we try to let go, we can’t. Our hands are hungry for something to hold, something to feed, something to feel.
And this is where we have a choice. We can either keep picking up the same balloon, stretched from every time we breathe life into it. Or we can choose a different balloon. Choose one that deserves life and breath. Choose one that builds truth and peace. Choose something beautiful to fill and the balloon you hold onto will no longer seem ominous, but joyful and free.
About Becky Hastings
I am emotional and logical. I am strong and dependent. I am a juxtaposition of head and heart exploring it all through writing. And in all my mixed-up ways I am loved. I'm here to tell you that you are, too. Just the way you are.