There’s a Gap Between Holding On and Letting Go
Are you afraid of falling?
Today, I imagined my life as a garden. I wanted to take some coloured pencils and draw it.
You could try it, too.
I was very happy because I couldn’t see any of the weeds I’ve been trying to pull out all this time.
I pulled them all out and cleaned everything up.
I was happy again when I saw my small new projects sprouting.
One of them is Medium, where I share my writing. It’s like embarking on a new journey, with small leaves in shades of orange, yellow, green, and purple.
None of the things I’ve worked on for years — the ones that sustained me like big trees — are here.
Losing everything in my life between 2023 and 2025 also played a part. The things I said goodbye to and removed also mattered.
Add to that those who left me, and I was left with nothing but ruins.
It’s easier to work through a single trauma. But after a series of complex traumas, you’re left with huge burden.
After two years of health conditions, death, and destruction, I picked up a pen and paper and found I could still draw a green leaf.
One of the things I drew is actually very important to me.
I couldn’t draw anything at all during this process, so returning to painting meant everything.
I drew a small green leaf. It was scary to start again because I was afraid I wouldn’t remember what I once knew.
However, I am relieved when I find it easy.
I’ve planted each of these leaves in the ground, and each one will grow into a tree.
There’s now plenty of empty space on the page.
For new plants.
For a new life.
