Posted by: Trisha Leigh | October 5, 2011

The Beauty of Just Letting Go

The title of this post is shamelessly lifted from the Dixie Chicks song “Let Him Fly.” It’s a song I’ve come back to at different times in my life, in those moments when my brain has recognized it’s time to let go of something, someone, and walk away but my heart hasn’t gotten the message.

One of my favorite lyrics: “You must always know how long to stay, and when to go.”

Letting go is never easy, whether you realize it needs to be done or another person forces you to confront the fact.Β Taking a deep breath and consigning my first love to history hurt like hell. Putting a marriage to rest, and being okay with it, was a challenge I hope to never tackle again. For those of you who don’t know, I left my agent last spring, which was a struggle that felt surprisingly akin to my divorce, with feelings of failure, embarrassment, and the fear no one would want me again.

Now it’s time to let go of the first manuscript I wrote that felt good enough and, after multiple agents loved it too, a story I believed would become my first published novel. It’s sad, yes. I love these characters; they’re something like family and it pains me to set them on a shelf and watch them gather dust.

That said, I’m ready.

The beauty in letting go is when the promise of what might be waiting ahead eclipses the pain of what might have been.

That’s when it’s time.

It’s time.

And you know what? I can’t wait to see what’s around the next bend in the road.



  1. This has a sweet sadness to it. I’m grieved, but hopeful and expectant for you just the same. Love you, dear heart. You can do all of this.

    • Thank you for the comment, and for being such a great friend.

  2. {{hugs}} It’s also hard when you’ve spent so much time with it. Take heart that it’s a beautiful story and I truly believe it will find its place in the world someday.

    • That means alot, since you’ve read it almost as many times as I have. Hearts.

  3. *wipes a tear* Oh, no! I feel for you, I really do! I loved your story and hope someday, it finds a home.

    • We’ll see. If divorce has taught me one thing, it’s that sometimes you one you think is THE ONE is not. So you never know!

  4. You are an inspiration to me, and I’m sure to many others. I hope you know that.

    • Thanks, Bill. I guess I’ll just keep chugging along then.

  5. I sort of think shame should be involved when stealing from the Dixie Chicks.

    • “Stealing” is not the same as quoting Patrick Alan, look it up.
      Very touching Trisha. I’m not a writer but I do know divorce. It hurts.

      • Perhaps I meant ‘lifting’. Or perhaps I am an evil dumb idiot trying to protect the Dixie Chicks.

        I think the latter is more likely. I am not sure though. I’ll go check to see if I have google alerts set up on the Dixie Chicks.

        • Wait, you were trying to protect them? Here I thought you were making fun of me for quoting them. Why would I think something like that?

      • Thank you! It’s nice to hear from people who have been down similar roads.

    • You know I like the Dixie Chicks. If only because it’s not cool.

  6. Big hug! I truly believe that one day it may rise again with an additional story to it, one that may be better than the one before. Sometimes our first writings are just ice breakers to so much more. ” Let him fly” is one of my favorite songs and is at such irony at this time. For we just lost our neighbor and dear friend to cancer and as the song goes, as we say goodbye, I’m gonna let him fly”. You have ambition Trisha, not many have that these days. I firmly believe you will achieve great happines around the bend. Sometimes even though the letting go part is hard you will find yourself relived to start something new. Much love- Michelle

    • Thanks for the comment and all the kind words. I do love that song, the lyrics are so poignant. Sorry to hear about your friend. Cancer steals far too many people far too soon.

  7. It is bittersweet, isn’t it? My first completed novel is hidden away in a drawer. I loved that book, but didn’t feel it was good enough to even approach agents with, so I hid it away. Part of me still hopes to see it published one day, but…well, it’s not likely to happen.

    But yay for new beginnings! That next bend in the road will reveal something exciting, I know. πŸ™‚

    • Yes! Ah, my first 3 manuscripts are in a drawer. There is one of them I’d love to revisit one day. I hope you’re right about what’s up ahead!

  8. I’m so sorry you are *here* at this place of decision making but am proud of you for doing what you think is right. And I thank you for sharing your pain with us. {hug}

    • Happy to do it. As hard as it is to put it out there, I know others are glad to feel less alone. You do quite a nice job of this on your own blog, so I know you know how it feels πŸ™‚

  9. Bill always says what I want to say. I should be quicker to read posts first, then HE’LL have to be the one saying, “What Beth said.”

  10. I read this a few days ago and it resonated so deeply with me that I just had to comment.

    “The beauty in letting go is when the promise of what might be waiting ahead eclipses the pain of what might have been.”

    Thank you so much for writing those words in particular. I recently had to let go of something I loved dearly, and even though it hurt, I knew deep down that sticking with it would be a huge mistake.

    • You’re welcome, and thank you for the comment. Sometimes writing those posts is hard, and the idea that it might connect with someone else feeling the same thing is what makes me push ‘publish.’

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