What If Letting Go Feels Too Risky?
- Leigh Wilder

- Jul 29
- 2 min read

We hear it all the time.
Let go.
Stop trying to control everything.
Trust the process.
But what if letting go doesn't feel freeing?
What if it feels like giving up the very thing that's keeping you okay?
Sometimes holding on isn't about needing things to go our way.
Sometimes it's what we do when we don't trust what will happen if we stop.
For some of us, difficult feelings don't just feel uncomfortable. They can feel unbearable.
Sadness. Grief. Uncertainty. Rejection. Helplessness.
And when those feelings arrive, we may immediately start looking for a way out.
We analyze. We try to understand. We make a plan. We stay busy. We distract ourselves. We reach for food. We look for something—anything—that might change how we feel.
These things can look very different, but underneath they may be doing something similar:
Helping us get away from a feeling we don't believe we can stay with.
Maybe there was a time when difficult feelings really did feel too big.
Maybe no one noticed we were struggling.
Maybe no one knew how to comfort us.
Maybe the people around us were struggling themselves.
So we found our own ways through.
We learned to anticipate. To solve. To prepare. To shut down. To soothe ourselves however we could.
Those ways of coping didn't come from nowhere.
They helped us through something we didn't yet know how to hold.
Which makes just let go a pretty big ask.
Because we're not simply being asked to loosen our grip.
We're being asked to give up something that has helped us get away from painful feelings—before we know what will take its place.
So maybe letting go isn't where we begin.
Maybe we begin by having a different experience with the feelings themselves.
Sometimes that starts with another person.
Someone stays.
They don't need to fix what we're feeling or make it go away. They're simply there while we're hurting.
And we get to experience:
I can hurt and not be alone.
The feeling comes. Someone stays. And eventually, something shifts.
Little by little, we begin to learn something we may not have learned before:
Pain can move.
And over time, we may begin to stay with ourselves, too.
Instead of immediately needing to understand the feeling, solve it, numb it, or make it disappear, maybe we can stay for a moment longer.
This hurts.
I don't know how this is going to turn out.
But I'm here.
Not perfectly. Not every time.
But gradually, the experience can become different.
Someone stays with me.
I learn that pain can move.
I begin to stay with myself.
Being held doesn't mean someone else has to carry us through every difficult feeling.
And learning to stay with ourselves doesn't mean we have to do everything alone.
We can have both.
Maybe that's where trust begins.
Not by forcing ourselves to let go.
But by slowly discovering that we don't have to escape every painful feeling that comes—and that when something hurts, we don't have to leave ourselves there alone.
So perhaps the question isn't:
Why can't I just let go?
Maybe it's:
What would help me feel safe enough to loosen my grip?
Messy. Bumpy. Possible. - Leigh




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