On Letting Go

I subject Smythe to my own attempts at Zen

April 2, 2024

Dear Smythe,

I won’t bother to apologize for the delay, as that seems too little too late at this point. 2024 has had a tumultuous start (to say the least), but I am getting tired of feeling sorry for myself and determined to take action. The action, that is, of letting go. For as I reflect on my sorrows over the last few months it strikes me that the source of all of my worries is really only one thing: losing control.

Let’s start with the negatives and move on.

I quit my job two months ago, after my coworker chased me down a dark road, grabbed me, and insisted I go on a date with him. I reported this to HR, who seemed more bothered that I was bothered than by what had happened, and the only consequence of this meeting was that my coworker came up behind me again when I was alone and offered me a weak apology. Unsurprisingly, I was increasingly unnerved by these events, and on a Tuesday morning, I walked out of the office and didn’t come back. I felt powerless then, which is why I left, and I feel powerless now, because I haven’t been able to find a job and despite my every effort to scrimp and save, I can see the last reserves of my savings depleting each week. I have realized that the dream pushing me through this period – that I might be able to write full-time instead and not go back to career I have hated – is impossible. I need to suck it up and go back into law, or starve. After leaving behind my entire life in America and moving to Ireland to become a writer, this feels like the ultimate failure. I feel, correctly or not, that I have completely let myself down.

My health is a disaster. My stomach issues have been steadily unraveling. I had a colonoscopy a couple of weeks ago, the procedure has left me feeling exponentially worse, and I have to wait two months for my results. I can barely eat most days, and the constant pain and hunger leave me feeling dizzy and weak and insane. Insane is a big one – I really can’t think straight. It helps to see loved ones, but this weekend I was so ill I couldn’t even make it to Easter celebrations, which left me feeling even worse. In the mornings I stand in front of the long mirror in my bedroom. I see my figure shrinking, and I wonder if the dress I bought for my graduation (in just 3 days!) is still going to fit. I wonder if I will be too sick to enjoy the day. Then I wonder how many people I have let down because I am not myself these days. I spend a lot of time wondering about a lot of things that make me feel even worse than I already do. About how I am failing not only myself but the people I love.

Unsurprisingly, these fears have worn away at my mental health, tearing down my defenses for other fears, older and deeper ones, to come in. I think of fear as a ghost, something that comes back to haunt you. That is cold when you let it run through you. That nobody sees but you, that is invisible and enormous at the same time. I can’t seem to shake my ghosts, old and new, perhaps because I don’t know how to tell anyone what they look like. They have consumed me, paralyzed me, and prevented me from seeing any joy in my life when I have needed it so desperately.

“Let it go,” my friend told me over the phone a few days ago, when I poured out my terror to her of an upcoming event. Soon I would be confronting ghosts in the real world, and every part of me was screaming against it. “You can’t control this,” she said. “Have compassion for them, and for you, and just let it be what it is. Be good to yourself.” Something clicked when she said this, and I realized that the word that turned on the light was control.

There is so little I actually can control. But rather than worrying about them, I’d be a lot better off if I accept things are they are, and focus my attention on what does make me happy.

So, this morning, when during a 50-minute zoom writing class, I had to leave twice to get sick in the toilet, I focused instead on how grateful I was for the minutes I was well enough to enjoy the course. Afterwards, I wanted to go for a walk and enjoy the sun, but I realized I was too weak to walk. So instead of feeling regret, I thought about how lovely it was to spend a morning sitting in bed, reading next to my cats. I might have missed Easter and friends and fun, but I gave myself the rest I needed and spent time with my partner, who cared for me, brought me tea and yogurt, listened to me, and otherwise showered me with love. I may be sick during my graduation in a few days, but I will still be proud that I completed the course, made lifelong friends, and moved to a country all on my own just to take a chance that things might work out.

This might sound to you, Smythe, like I am grasping a bit. But I’ve only got one life, and if it isn’t exactly what I want right now, I still have the right to enjoy it as much as I can. I have the rest of my life for things to get better. Leonard Cohen wrote, “there is a crack…in everything, that's how the light gets in.” Well, have you noticed that the longer you look at a light, the brighter it gets?

Love,
Marguerite

P.S. I might not be able to write full-time, but I did still manage to get my first essay published. Would you like to read it? :)

https://thebelfastreview.wixsite.com/home/issues