We Can’t Let It Go

Sometimes my heart breaks for the people around me.

I’m sitting in front of a 10+ -year-old computer I had as a young teenager in Nigeria, back when I had no idea what my life would look like 10 years later. I was so passionate then. I felt bigger than life.

I have files on here about K-dramas and movies, and I remember watching the same film over and over again because I had such limited access to them. I had to download them from unauthorized sites and organize them into folders on this old HP laptop my father gave me. It’s even older than I thought. I treasure things. I respected things because they were precious.

Looking at all these videos and photos of myself, my friends, and my family, transferred from my Tecno Android phone to my computer, I can see a kind of vigor for life that I sometimes feel I lack today. I think about everything that has happened to me through growth, development, and learning. The regrets. The love. The passion. All the things that have built up in my heart and spirit. Sometimes it makes me feel like I can’t move forward because I’m holding onto too much.

And sometimes I wonder: why can’t I just let it go?

But when I look at myself 10 years ago, I realize I still carry her with me. I still carry all her goodness. And if I didn’t let that go, then why should I let go of the ugly?

I was talking to one of my students today, and she told me how much she struggled this semester because if a paper wasn’t perfect, she just wouldn’t turn it in. For her, it was all or nothing. And of course, the advice I gave was: no, not everything has to be perfect. It’s better to get some points than none at all, because otherwise it will look as though you never even tried. Don’t give up.

Now, sitting here and reflecting on that conversation, and on today—which will be yesterday by the time I post this—I realize something: I don’t think we are supposed to let it go.

I believe in forgiveness. In many cases, I believe in not bringing things back up. But I have weighed myself down by treating my history like a burden, when really, history is meant to be remembered. It should be remembered so it can be appreciated, so mistakes are not repeated, but also so you can remember where you came from. Because if you lose sight of where you came from, how will you understand the reason behind where you’re going? How will you remember why you fought so hard to get there?

I thought life had to be all or nothing. I thought it meant perfection. And I thought the only way to become that was to let go of all the ugly and hold onto only the good.

But the good, the bad, and the ugly—they are all mine.

And I don’t want to let go. Not now, at least.

Because I’m looking at all these memories, and in so many of them, I was in tremendous pain. They were not all happy. And yet I still feel so much love for the person I’m looking at. So much passion. So much pride. I am in awe of all she accomplished to get me to where I am now.

And 10 years from now, I don’t want to forget the pain I felt. I don’t want to forget the heartbreak. I am a person. I will bleed. I will feel pain. I will cry. And the moon will not lose its curves or fall out of the sky because of it. We were made to feel.

And I want to embrace that. I want to embrace the ugly.

I am in love with the ugly, because I have come to realize that, for humans, perfect things do not need love. Love is built for the rough edges. It is built for imperfection.

And maybe in embracing that, I can stop performing. Maybe in that way, I can show up whole and not give a damn about how I am perceived or how I arrive. Maybe I can stop performing even for myself.

Sometimes my heart breaks for the people around me. Because they’ll never get to experience who I was before my edges got rough, but that’s a good thing because there was a time and there was a people that experienced it.

Because I am so interested in finding out who I am when my nervous system is calm. When I not only love myself, but truly see value in who I am and who I am becoming for no other reason than that I exist.

Because even if I did nothing at all, even if I accomplished nothing, there still must be value in me. It cannot be tied only to what I can do. It has to reside in who I am.

Because I am worth dying for.

And you know what? So are you.

Every single one of us is worthy of a ridiculous amount of love.

That has to mean something.