When to Let Go?

How to know when to let go? That’s the question with which I often wrestle. Our lives are filled with a series of relationships and associations: Family, jobs, friends, pets, etc. Sometimes they are easy to maintain. Sometimes they are extremely challenging. Sometimes we want to just quit, but decide to push through instead. Sometime that’s the wrong decision. How do you know when to let go?

My husband and I purchased a Saturn sedan in 1996. We were newly married at the time, and when my old, failing car finally bit the dust, we decided to splurge on a new car. That Saturn has seen us through two houses, two births, several career changes and countless miles roundtrip between our home in Hanover and my husband’s office in Providence. After 13 years and 350,000 miles, it finally blew a head gasket. The day we dreaded had finally arrived. Should we sink more money into the old car and limp along for a little while longer? Or was it time to let go?

For seven years I worked as a direct sales consultant. I started my business when my kids were one and four years old. This was my way to get out of the house a few nights a month, make a little extra money for my family, and spend time with people who didn’t think the sun rose and set on the Teletubbies. What started as a hobby grew into a part-time business that gave me the confidence to speak in public, the ability to initiate conversation with anyone, and many new friendships. As much as I enjoyed my business, by the end of year six I found myself less enthusiastic about working it. I wasn’t following up on leads, I wasn’t attending monthly meetings, and I wasn’t reading the consultant newsletter. Was it time to bring this chapter of my life to a close?

Most times I find my inability to let go fueled by my fear of the unknown. If our car dies, how will we afford a new one? If I close my business, how I will make money? I’m sure that these thoughts, these fears about what lies ahead are the reason that many people stay in unfulfilling jobs, unhappy marriages, and toxic relationships. The irony is that once we finally break free of our fear and enter into that great unknown, we often find that it’s not nearly as scary as we anticipated, and relief often replaces the fear.

A close friend owns several pets including a very old dog. The dog has reached the point where it can no longer stand up on its own. It needs assistance getting in and out of the house. It can’t control its bowels. And yet, she can’t bring herself to put this beloved pet to sleep. So she continues to help the dog stand up, help it go outside, and clean up the accidents around the house. If this sounds familiar it’s because most of us with pets have faced the same situation. It’s a delicate balance between the animal’s quality of life and our own inability to say goodbye. How to know when to let go?

Visiting my family in NJ this weekend, I planned a visit with a close friend I’ve known for over 35 years. My kids love her kids and my husband genuinely enjoys the company of her husband (despite the fact that he’s a Yankee fan). This weekend, I called to finalize our plans and noticed, for the first time, an undertone in her voice. Why wasn’t she as excited to get together as we were? Were we burdening her with our visit? After a few probing questions, she finally admitted that on past visits I’d made comments that she felt were sarcastic, judgmental and disrespectful to her. I was taken aback. Admittedly, I can be sarcastic and judgmental. I just never realized that I had directed that attitude towards her. Had I unintentionally caused our relationship to become toxic? And if I had, this led to a larger issue. Was I trying to maintain a friendship that had run its course? Did we have anything in common other than our shared past? Was it time for me to let go?

There are no easy answers. Sometimes you just have to face your fear and go with your gut. When our car finally died, we asked our folks to lend us money for a new one. I decided to resign from my direct sales business, replacing it with more freelance writing. And my friend? Despite my fear, I met her for coffee and asked her to explain what I’d done to offend her. For once, we were able to talk without being interrupted by husbands or children. By the time we finished our coffee, we had cleared the air and agreed that we both wanted to stay friends for the next 35 years. And in this instance, I’m thankful that it’s not time to let go.

Memories of Michael Jackson

This week there were several “celebrity” deaths reported but none as shocking or surprising as that of Michael Jackson. While I wouldn’t call myself a fan (I’m not one of those hysterical girls you saw crying uncontrollably at his concerts) I will say that I had an appreciation for his talent.

The first record I ever bought was “Rockin’ Robin” by Michael Jackson. My friend Patti Mirenna sold it to me for fifty cents (unbeknownst to the real owner, her older sister Jolene.) I played that 45 over and over, listening as the music mixed with the pops and scratches of the vinyl. (Remember 45s? You had to put that little yellow adapter in the middle otherwise the record would slide all over your turntable making the music sound even more psychedelic than usual.) Although I enjoyed The Jackson 5, I was really more of an Osmond Family fan. Michael Jackson had the pipes but Donny Osmond was dreamy.

Fast-forward a decade to December 1983. I spent the first half of my junior year of college studying abroad. Spending time in France, England and several other European countries left me significantly out of the loop when it came to American pop culture. Returning home after four months in Europe, my sisters pounced on me not to find out about the latest Paris fashions, or whether the men in Italy really pinched your butt as you walked by. The first thing they asked me was “Have you seen Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’?” Of course I hadn’t; the phenomenon had not yet reached European shores, and so we plunked ourselves down in front of MTV for what seemed like hours (and probably was) and waited for the next showing. (Remember those days before the Internet and YouTube when you had to wait for something to be shown? For that matter, remember when MTV actually showed music videos?)

Of course I was blown away by the music, the dancing and the special effects, but most of all by Michael Jackson himself. Clearly he was a visionary when it came to music, but even more so when it came to showmanship. The “Thriller” album went on to become the highest selling album of all time and a superstar suddenly became an icon.

Over the years my admiration for Michael Jackson’s talent was tempered by his increasingly odd behavior: A chimpanzee for a best friend; purchasing the Elephant Man’s bones (and even more disturbing, purchasing the Beatle’s music.) A hyperbaric chamber installed in his amusement park of a home; the allegations by young boys. And through it all, the ever-changing face of Michael Jackson. A friend’s daughter once innocently asked, “How did Michael Jackson go from being a black man to a white woman?” How indeed?

For many, the passing of Michael Jackson will be one of those “Where were you when you heard…” events. I was on my way to TJ Maxx to find a dress for my husband’s reunion. When I heard the news, I wandered through the store, telling anyone who passed that Michael Jackson had died. I guess I needed others to share my disbelief, to validate the shock I felt. How could such an iconic figure be gone so suddenly?

As millions mourn, I join them in recognizing the loss of an immense talent. Despite the financial woes, legal battles and bizarre behavior, I will try to remember the Michael Jackson whose voice first entertained me for hours on a cheap turntable and entertained the world for nearly five decades.