Remembering.

I remember this time last year. I remember it all too well.

I remember sitting alone in my room, laptop in hand, having to write the hardest email I have ever written.

I remember the way the keys felt beneath my fingers. I remember the warmth of my laptop. But what I remember the most is the peace and confirmation that came as I wrote. Even though this was by far the hardest thing I have ever had to do, everything in me told me it was right. Everything in me pushed me to keep typing the letters. I felt relief fill my tired muscles as each syllable found it's way onto my computer screen.

I was having to tell someone that I was letting go, I was walking away. This wasn't something I normally do. I have always boasted about my ability to stay in touch with people, about my ability to maintain relationships with people. This was outside my norm. I have never been one to tell someone, "I can no longer be apart of your life." I wasn't letting them go because of anything they had done. Truth be told I had known for a while. I had known it was time to walk away because I needed to grow and I couldn't with them in my life. As much as I loved them with every ounce of who I am, I knew I was made to grow and I couldn't if they stayed.

That's the thing about growing. You can't always grow while clinging onto someone. You can't grow to your full potential if you are alway holding back for someone else, always trying to be the one to support them. Always being the one to help push them back up to the surface when they need air.

I wrote someone a letter one time. It's a letter I never sent to them for they decided to let me go, for they too knew that sometimes, no matter how wonderful the person is, you can't grow the way you need to with them. I wrote it because I felt I had held them back. I felt that I had and would have been a hinderance to their growth if they stayed. I'm so sensitive to hurting people that I'll not only apologize for things I did, but for things I could have done as well. That's what I did in this letter. I apologized for what could have happened if they stayed. I apologized because I wanted them to stay at the time, not realizing the consequences they would have had to suffer if they did. I wrote, "I was puking up emotions, grasping for something to hold onto, and you didn’t need to be that person to hold me up. You didn’t need to be the person who was cleaning up my emotional vomit and if you had stuck around that’s exactly what you would have done, because even though I didn’t spend much time with you, I already could see that you would be the guy to clean up my emotional mess if you were put in that kind of position. You know what though? You were not created to be someone’s janitor, cleaning up after a mess they’ve made." 

I'm not ashamed to admit when I'm right and I truly believe I was right when I said, "You were not created to be someone's janitor." Because you weren't. You weren't created to just clean up others people's messes and other people were not created to clean up yours.

Hannah Brencher posted a quote onto Instagram yesterday that has been spinning through my mind since. It said, "Clinging is just shrinking wearing more makeup. It's not your job to determine what parts of your identity you wanted to wear like a mask forever. It's not your job to try and control who stays. It's sad and hopeful all at the same time: some things are only going to become the beautiful they were meant to be when we give ourselves the permission to let them go for good."

I think about this person I wrote the unsent letter to and I can't help but hope and pray they are becoming the beautiful they were meant to be. I pray that by letting go, they have been able to grow and find ways to let go of the hard things they need to let go of.

The email I wrote and sent, well I receiving an email back. I remember reading the words and feeling all the hurt they carried. I remembered crying because I never wanted to hurt them, that was what kept me from letting go in the first place. I never wanted anyone to get hurt.

 I remember calling people who cared about me in tears because even though I had peace while writing the email, the reality and pain that came with the truth was hard to deal with alone. 

I was reminded of this email that I wrote over a year ago tonight. I was reminded of the pain and heartbreak that came with the truth. Tonight, I happily sit in my bed, with my laptop in my lap and drink in the joy of taking the hard road. I drink in the power truth really has and the promise that comes with letting go, finally believing that it has the ability to change everything for the good. Sometimes letting go has to take place so that JOY can find a way to take root in your life and grow. 

There are aches and pain in letting certain people go but I can't help but believe that it does more good than harm.