Letting Go of Control: We're Allowed to Have Fun



There hasn't been a whole lot of that in my life.



Control: trying to perfectly align people/places/things in a way that will ensure constant satisfaction.

I'm now - finally - ready to let go of the battle for control I've been waging with life, all my life.

I'm ready to acknowledge that I actually have control over very little; I can control my actions, and I can control my reactions. I cannot control other people's actions or reactions and therefore, I cannot control the world at large.

I've discovered that letting go of control is easier if we can detach from outcomes. I'm able to do that more easily now because as I look back on my life, I acknowledge that I've been a very poor judge of the things that actually bring me joy.

I'm ready to let go of chasing those things I think might make me happy because I've already learned they probably won't.

I'm ready to let go of the reins because holding on so damn tight is existentially exhausting.

I don't have to fight anymore because there is no particular person or situation that has to be it. If my needs can't be met in a particular situation (if I'm not challenged enough in a particular job, or specific needs are not being met in a relationship) - I can just get up and walk out.

Not in anger - like a wounded child - but with the calm assurance of someone who knows what she wants/needs/deserves and who isn't willing to stick around if it's not available.

It's ok. It's all good. It's all love. It's all freedom.

I've spent a lot of time in past relationships agonizing over whether someone was "the one or not." I've done that with jobs, and with my life too.

I've believed the most ridiculous thing of all: I believed in permanence.

When I was working as a social director on a cruise ship in my early twenties, I believed in permanence. I thought life would be this glamorous forever.

When I was working in a clerical job for the government in my mid-twenties, I believed in permanence. I thought I would be this bored forever.

When I was working as a scuba diver in a dive centre in my late twenties, I believe in permanence. I thought life would be this exciting forever.

When I was working as a medical conference organizer for big Pharma in my early 30’s, I believed in permanence. I thought I would be this unfulfilled forever.

When I was working as a corporate events manager for a crown corporation in my late 30's, I believed in permanence. I thought my life would be this fast-paced forever.

I've done the same in every relationship "Is this it? How about this? Or that? WHAT CAN I HOLD ONTO??!!!"

And you know what I forgot to do, in my desperate attempt to find permanence?

I forgot to just enjoy the ride.

Nothing is it. Just the way everything is it.

None of the parts on their own are particularly significant, but all of the parts together are important threads in the tapestry of life.

In general, I don't believe in regrets. I don't regret my life or the choices I've made, because - most days - I love my life, and I love the person I've become as a result of living it fully and fearlessly.

But there is one thing - only one thing - that I do regret very, very deeply.

That I didn't have more fun.

In an attempt to figure everything out - to hold onto people, places, and things - I forgot to have fun.

And that's a real shame, to realize "I could have had more fun."

But I'm only 41 (and a half), and thankfully, in excellent health. Barring any acts of God, I have at least another 50 years ahead of me.

That means I still have more than half of my life enjoy the ride - TO LET GO AND HAVE FUN.

To detach from outcomes, to stop believing in permanence and just “hang on loosely” to all of what life has to offer.

Nothing will last in its current state forever because life is energy, we are energy, and therefore constantly in motion. Anything in constant motion cannot remain as it is because movement triggers change, however small those changes might be.

I've spent my life living like the kid who never wanted to get on the rollercoaster: tense, eyes squeezed shut, silently gripping the guard rail waiting for it to be over.

But I'm ready to enjoy the ride now: I'm ready to open my eyes, let go of the guard rail and shout in exhilarating glee as I hurl myself fully into the experience of being alive.

Because being alive can be a whole lot of fun. If we let it.


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