Let This Be Enough

A reflection on moods, meaning-making, impermanence, and the relief of connection

The past few days have been strange in that quiet, disorienting way where you don’t immediately know what’s happening, only that something is off.

Sometime around last Friday, a current of frustration and irritation began moving through me.

Moods rose and fell like riptides, and I found myself caught in all of them, pulled under again and again.

The question “What is wrong with me?” kept zipping through my mind, sharp and insistent.

I spent a lot of time trying to answer it.

“Well, it could be this. Yes, that makes sense. And it could also be that.”

One explanation after another presented itself, and I found myself agreeing with them, giving these stories my full attention, my belief, my energy. Without realizing it, I was handing them so much power. Each answer bred another reason, another justification, another narrative.

Before I knew it, three days had passed, and I was deep inside it.

Ruminating.

Carefully, almost proudly, stirring my pot of intrusive thoughts. Searching for evidence that I was right and they were wrong. My mind rummaged through the vault of constantly shifting past memories, pulling out whatever it could find to prove its case.

“Yes. This is definitely why. Of course. This makes sense.”

I was exhausted.
I was dissociating.
I was locked in a protective survival state, triggered, braced, waiting for something terrible to happen.

Then yesterday morning, I received a text from a very old and dear friend. A ride or die, in all the best ways.

We had plans, and I was already preparing to wiggle my way out of them. Socializing is hard for me. Hermiting is often easier.

Her message came at 7:48 a.m.

“Ok, I’m coming to you. I’m on my way because I want to hug my old friend. I need a hug. So there it is.”

It ended with a heart.

Judging by how I usually feel about people just showing up, you might think I wouldn’t want that. It often feels like pressure. But yesterday, it was exactly what I needed.

Seeing her. Being with someone I have loved my whole life. Someone who has never placed expectations on me, never asked me to be anything other than who I am.

That kind of ease is rare. And it softened something in me that had been clenched for days.

Later, I found myself thinking about something I’ve been saying in the meditation classes I’ve been guiding.

What energy do we want to end 2025 with?

Endings matter.
We can’t have beginnings without them.
And it is okay for things to end.

Situations change.
People change.
Circumstances change.
Life is constantly moving.

Everything is impermanent.

My thoughts.
My moods.
My feelings.
My hopes and dreams.
My likes and dislikes.
Even the things I love deeply, and my desire to keep them in my life.

I want to end things gracefully when they are ready to be released.
I no longer want to ride things out, hoping they will get better, to let them drag on, to force myself to feel what I no longer feel.

Clinging to what once was feels like an awful way to live.
To me, it feels like a desperate act of despair. Longing that has turned divisive and obsessive. And I know how easily I can do that, with almost anything.

So I am choosing to honor what has passed.
To grieve what has passed.
To grieve all that has passed.

And now, as we close, I invite a pause.

Take a slow breath in through the nose.
Let it travel all the way down into the belly.
And exhale gently through the mouth.

Feel where your body is supported.
The ground beneath you.
The chair, the bed, the earth holding your weight.

With each breath, allow yourself to release what you are ready to let go of.
Not all at once.
Not forcefully.
Just what is ready.

Notice what space begins to open.
Notice the quiet that follows letting go.

Bring to mind the energy you want to carry forward as this year comes to a close.
Not what you think you should feel, but what feels true.
Peace.
Clarity.
Softness.
Courage.
Trust.
Rest.

Let that energy settle into your chest.
Into your breath.
Into your body.

Offer gratitude for each moment that led you here.
For each breath that continues to move through you.
For the courage it takes to release, to grieve, and to begin again.

Thank you for sharing this with me, from my heart to yours.