Moving On is Letting Go

by Lori Dwyer on January 17, 2012 · 18 comments

Moving on… it must mean letting go.

There are things stuck in my head like fresh chewing gum on the bottom of a shoe… I lift, I pull, I stretch, and still the things that shouldn’t be there will not release that sticky, sugary bond. Ideals and illusions that were part of my core identity, my sense of self. As much as it hurts to give that recognition… eventually, I have to. To let it go, first I have to know what it is I’m releasing.

That image I had of what a family consists of- mum and dad and 2.5 kids, having picnics on the weekend and living in the suburbs.

That’s not mine anymore, and it won’t be coming back, never in the simple, wholesome form it was.

I need to let go of that.

I am no longer someone’s wife, someones best friend, half of a shield of love projected into the world… I have to let go of that.

I’m no longer a suburban hosewife who cooks roasts and ferries her kids to Playgroup and daycare and swim lessons. I have to let go of that too.

All of that was a part of me, and before it was a part of me it was something I wanted- all I wanted, really, a completion of life, a definition of being OK.

As I let go of that, I have to allow myself some release from what has happened as well. This doesn’t define me.

This is something that happened, once. It happened to me and around me and for a while it consumed me.

But its not all of me.

I was married. I have known my soulmate. We lived, we loved, he died. Part of me, not all of me. It’s not OK, never will be…. but eventually it must be.

Even if just so I can embrace a new concept, a new vision, a new ego, a new identity… a new version of me. Because if you let go of things, you leave a hole, and something has to fill it.

So fill it with a new concept- that of a family being a mum and her two kids. I know that’s a family, I know it can be one, because I came from a family just like that myself.

Fill that hole with a picture of myself… Single and alone and tougher than I should be. Worthy of love– I have to be, I had it once– but accepting that I may never have that kind of love again… What are the chances of finding another best friend? But I was lucky, very blessed, to have had it once.

Part of me, not all of me. Not OK but it has to be.

Fill the hole with the word “survivor”. Fill it with pride in myself. That’s impossible, right now, when I feel like such a… nothing, a non–entity; a breathing, parenting vessel of pain.

But– with all the luck in the world– that too will pass. And I’ll start to feel real again. Finish the letting go, let it all drain out. And begin to fill it with something new again. Moving on.

Because this is just something that happened, a tiny part of me…. not all of me.

And it’s not OK. But it will be.

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{ 18 comments… read them below or add one }

Mirne January 30, 2012 at 8:49 pm

I try hard to not it define me. But I haven't been real successful so far. And I'm not the person I was before. So at the moment I'm in limbo. I don't know who I will be. And the lost children walk with me every day, yet I'm not a mother. The world only sees a woman, they don't see the lost children, the anger, the bitterness, the sadness, the grief. It still overwhelms me every day.


Cassie January 25, 2012 at 12:10 pm

Where have I been for the last week? Can't believe I missed this post. It's wonderful. Thanks for writing it. It shows us all that when something devestating happens you can move on.


Simone January 18, 2012 at 6:30 am

This is a beautiful post. Very inspiring.


Annabellz January 18, 2012 at 2:47 am

I agree… a great post.


Melissa January 17, 2012 at 10:20 pm

Do you have any idea how amazing you are? Most people are never able to achieve this level of insight. And you, not only are you able to understand whats happening – but then you express it, so unbelievably eloquently so that those of us who are far less amazing than you, can learn and grow by your example.
I think it's really hard to be changing – it's so much easier when things are solid, predictable. But I think (not that it's worth anything) that who you are – this new Lori, is going to be in a state of constant flow for awhile as you grieve, let go, and move on. And living in that fluid place is hard, too – it's hard to be changing, but it's also an opportunity to give shape to the solid, stable Lori that is being made, day by day.
Lots of love.
Forgive my wordy comment….


Rachel January 17, 2012 at 8:53 pm

You fuckin' rock.
That is all.
xxxx tpc


Amy xxoo January 17, 2012 at 8:24 pm

You remind me so much of a friend of mine Lori, a woman who lost her husband to a brain tumour when she was aged under 30 with 3 young children.
Your both tough as fucking nails. Oh, and super awesome!


Twinzplusone January 17, 2012 at 4:25 pm

Made me cry x


Leigh January 17, 2012 at 3:10 pm

What a beautiful inspiring post. That's all!


lori January 17, 2012 at 2:55 pm

It's good to hear those words from you. You really are a source of hope and strength to others. XXOO


Suz @ Segovia and The I Love You Song January 17, 2012 at 1:57 pm

You are nothing short of extraordinary Lori. much love x


Cathy January 17, 2012 at 1:04 pm

You always astound me with your writing.


Sophie January 17, 2012 at 12:53 pm

It's taken me over three years to get to a place where the new normal feels more than just bareable… but ok. She is still a huge part of my life, moving forward does not mean letting go of them… it's about forming a new relationship… and seriously, yes, you can still have a relationship with the dead (and not in a icky paranormal kind of way)but in a spiritual, philosophical kind of way. It takes time.



Eccentricess January 17, 2012 at 12:10 pm

Your words make the new concept so clear, so possible. You can do it.


Cath January 17, 2012 at 11:12 am

Hugs Lori

Letting go doesn't mean not remembering or not missing letting go means that you can remember with less pain …

I am not sure that we truly ever fully let go of our loved ones but as you say we no longer are defined by them or the events in our lives.

You will get there I promise, I know this for fact.
C xx


Melissa January 17, 2012 at 10:22 am

You're right. There will, one day be a new normal. A new Lori. When I put myself in your shoes though, fear takes my breath away. The fact that you're still standing, still parenting. I think you're stronger than I'd ever be. And yes, I know it's because you have no choice. But I STILL don't know if I could. I don't know if I have that in me.

Something that happened to you. It's actually a good way of looking at it.

Lots and lots of love to you, Lori.


Caro Webster January 17, 2012 at 9:17 am

Lori, one of the best posts you've written so far. Caro x


Shelley January 17, 2012 at 7:59 pm

Lori, you are strong & brave & you will be ok xx Beautiful post


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