August, I’m Letting You Go
This summer physically changed me. Something in me shifted, and I don't think things will ever be quite the same. I know I'll never be the same.
August, when I said I was ready to feel at home within my body, when I said I welcomed you with open arms, I had no idea what was to come.
August, you were a tidal wave of emotions. Some of the biggest breakers. I’m talking Waimea Bay type of emotions.
And when I felt it couldn’t get any worse, it did.
Or so I thought. You see, so often when we feel things are falling apart, they are falling into place (cliche, I know).
They are happening to remind us to look inside our core. To remind us of what we are neglecting. And with a little guidance or a lot, we begin to see and understand why life unfolds in such tragic, beautiful, and confusing ways.
There’s something about summer that brings a fun, light glow. To some extent, this was true for me. But what is also true is that this summer physically changed me. Something in me shifted, and I don’t think things will ever be quite the same. I know I’ll never be the same.
Sometimes you need tsunami-strength waves to push you back to shore. Sometimes jumping glides you back to stable territory, but not without some turbulence first.
And sometimes it unfolds through interactions with other beings — experiences, moments, and losses with someone. Through the choices you make with what you know at that given time. And there are no wrong choices, only experiences in which we learn through.
Learning through heartache. Learning through good times. Learning through changes. Learning through those you’ve let into your space. Learning through letting go. Learning through acceptance.
Learning to fall into that uncomfortable space that so often most try to numb. Because for some reason, distracting yourself from certain emotions to avoid feeling them seems to be a good idea at that moment.
But to truly move on, you have to allow yourself the space to heal. You have to process what you just experienced. When it comes to healing, there aren’t any shortcuts.
August, I welcomed you with open arms, and so often I wanted to retract, but I didn’t. Now here I am, touching the waves as they come. Here I am, open and feeling what you brought. Here I am, slowly starting to feel at home again. Here I am with newfound hope.
August, I leave you with light and love. I’m letting you go. 
