Letting go is often easier said than done. We all have things we hold onto—possessions, memories, habits, even identities we’ve outgrown. Sometimes, we grip them so tightly that we don’t realize they’ve become a burden.
But why? Why do we struggle to release what no longer serves us? Is it fear? Sentiment? The illusion that holding on keeps us connected to something meaningful?
This is a story about books, yoga, and the quiet realizations that come when we start questioning what we truly need to carry—and what we’re finally ready to set down.
Letting go isn’t easy.
I realized this two days ago when my mother called me.
“You should give away some books to the learning center,” she said. “I’ve seen you hoarding them for the last four to five years. And honestly, once you started buying and stacking them up, I haven’t seen you actively read.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she wasn’t wrong.
The call was on speaker, and the moment I hung up, my daughter—who had been quietly listening—chimed in.
“You should give away your books, not mine.”
“Excuse me?” I turned to her.
She shrugged. “You don’t reread your books. I do.”
That statement hit me in a way I didn’t expect.
I was annoyed. Not because she was wrong, but because—well—she wasn’t.
Later, when I spoke to my mom again, I admitted, “I don’t know which ones to give away and which ones to keep.”
“Then don’t,” she said simply. “But promise yourself not to buy any more.”
Now that felt like a bigger challenge than giving them away.
But here’s the part that really made me think.
When my yoga instructor tells me to let go after each asana posture, I do it. No resistance. No second thoughts.
One moment, my muscles are stretched tight, my breath controlled, my mind focused on holding the pose.
And then—release.
Let go.
Why is it so easy to let go of the tension in my body, but not the things I hoard?
Why can I exhale and surrender into the next moment on the mat, but I cling onto books, memories, past versions of myself?
Letting go isn’t always about physically giving things away.
Sometimes, it’s about loosening our grip—on expectations, on old habits, on the idea that we must hold onto something for it to have value.
Maybe the books don’t need to go right now.
Maybe the real work isn’t in deciding what stays and what leaves, but in understanding why I feel the need to hold on.
Is it the fear of losing a part of myself? The version of me that once believed I would read every single one of these books, highlight passages, scribble notes in the margins? Or is it the guilt of unmet expectations—the quiet disappointment of having something I once longed for, only to let it gather dust?
Letting go isn’t just about removing things from your life.
It’s about loosening the grip—on guilt, on pressure, on the idea that if we stop holding onto something, we’ve somehow failed. It’s about understanding that we are allowed to change, allowed to evolve, and sometimes, allowed to say, I don’t need this anymore.
Maybe letting go means making peace with the fact that we outgrow things—books, possessions, even people. That who we were five years ago is not who we are today. That it’s okay to release what no longer serves us, even if it once meant everything.
Maybe it means embracing the in-between space—the uncertainty of not knowing when we’ll be ready, but trusting that we will be, eventually. That letting go isn’t about forcing ourselves to give something up before we’re ready, but about allowing space for the readiness to come naturally.
Maybe it’s about realizing that some things, no matter how tightly we hold them, will slip away on their own. And some things will stay, even when we let go.
Maybe the real work is accepting that just like the way I exhale and release tension in yoga, I can also release the burden of possessions, expectations, and the weight of the past.
Maybe letting go doesn’t have to be a dramatic, all-at-once action. Maybe it’s a process. A slow, mindful surrender.
Because just like in yoga, letting go isn’t a one-time thing. It’s a practice.
Some days, you hold on. Some days, you loosen your grip. And then one day, without even realizing it, you’re ready to let go.
And when that day comes, it will feel like the most natural thing in the world.
What do you find hard to let go of?