Letting Go Isn't A Mindset - It's A Trainable Skill
The science behind ambiguous loss and how to signal your nervous system it's safe to let go.
Should I trim it or cut the whole thing off?
Just a tidy-up. Nothing dramatic.
Not like last year, when I chopped it into a curly mop in a slash-and-burn moment.
At the hairdresser’s, a few days ago, I almost did it again.
Because when I’m stressed, overwhelmed, or emotionally saturated, I often cut my hair off.
A fringe. A bob. A quiet declaration of “I’m done here. F*ck it all!”
It’s not really about style.
It’s about control.
A small decision I can make when everything feels like it’s unravelling.
The urge to make a visceral statement
The urge reappeared strongly.
The transitions and uncertainties have piled up.
Some endings were clear. Others weren’t.
Work shifted.
Identity and purpose wobbled.
The future is unclear.
The emotional landscape is murky and not yet traversed.
But this time, I resisted and didn’t cut it all off.
I realised the urge wasn’t about my hair.
I didn’t need an external representation of my inner struggle.
Instead, I needed to look inwards, and rather than reinvention, I’ve leaned into reflection.
Not fixing.
Not rebranding.
To notice what’s still lingering.
To ask what actually needs attention.
And choosing what I’m finally ready to put down.
Shoes, clay, and stuff that lingers but you don’t see
I’ve recently restarted my ceramics practise.
Something I used to do weekly for years at a London studio on Saturday afternoons.
It was a creative outlet that kept me grounded and connected to other creatives.
But worsening chronic pain and a house move got in the way.
I hadn’t truly immersed myself in clay for years.
Until a couple of weeks ago.
I found a local studio and finally got back behind the wheel.
Still messy.
Still meditative.
Still something my body can thankfully now tolerate.
While digging around for my old pottery tools, I stumbled upon a box I hadn’t opened since my move in 2020.
Shoes.
Neatly packed, wrapped in tissue paper. A little dusty.
Tucked into a spare room patiently waiting for a version of me I’d quietly abandoned.
I stood there unwrapping them, realising I’d always known they were “somewhere,” but I’d never once gone looking.
They weren’t missed. They weren’t needed.
They’d just been sitting there.
Taking up valuable space.
And it hit me: emotional clutter, disguised as shoes.
The physical manifestation of all the open mental loops I haven’t closed.
Old roles, relationships, unfinished projects, conversations I never had.
Versions of myself I haven’t quite said goodbye to.
We avoid this stuff for years. And yet it clogs up our focus and fills our internal storage.
So, what else am I ignoring?
What else is quietly costing me clarity and attention?
Right now, that’s the priority.
Not forcing change. Not rushing the next thing.
But choosing what to carry forward and what to let go.
The brain hates loose ends
Here’s the thing: your brain hates unfinished stories.
It’s constantly trying to make sense of what’s next, based on what’s gone before.
This is what helps you feel safe.
But when something ends without a clear signal or marker, like a job, a routine, a relationship, a version of yourself, it doesn’t file neatly into memory.
It lingers.
It loops.
It clogs up your cognitive bandwidth like a background app you forgot to close (yeah, like you Adobe cos you suck!)
Psychologist Pauline Boss calls this ambiguous loss.
The kind that doesn’t come with a clear understanding or emotional closure.
No funeral.
No last day farewell.
No dramatic end.
Your nervous system doesn’t know where to put it.
The ambiguous loss can be physical or psychological, and the related grief process halts or falters.
Your nervous system stays on high alert and doesn’t know how much energy is needed to process it.
On the cognitive side, studies show that unfulfilled goals or decisions use up mental energy, reducing your ability to focus and think clearly.
Even writing them down or having a plan helps reduce the load.
But we often ignore this and try to power through until it backfires on us.
Even when you’re logically done with something, your brain might be running the background script:
What if I’d just said that?
Maybe if I’d handled it differently?
I should’ve known better.
This isn’t closure, but looping. It stops you from focusing on the stuff that actually matters.
Your energy, identity, meaning, acceptance, priorities, your next chapter.
Growth always comes with a bit of grief
Author Mark Manson recently wrote:
“Growth is usually painful to some degree. That’s because growth requires loss - a loss of your old values, your old behaviors, your old loves, your old identity. Therefore, growth often has a component of grief to it.”
Mark Manson
That line hit me hard.
Because letting go isn’t always about a person, a job, or a specific event.
Sometimes it’s a former self.
A coping strategy or habit.
A version of you that survived the tough stuff but isn’t designed for the challenges ahead.
Every transition comes with tiny funerals.
Some we notice. Most we don’t.
After losing my dad nearly four years ago, I started seeing it everywhere.
Unprocessed loss drives so much of how we think, feel, and behave.
This week, I’m giving those parts of me some space.
Not to dwell.
Not to spiral.
But to acknowledge what’s shifted, and what I want to take with me into the next phase.
Because not everything deserves to be carried forward.
Letting go is a skill (not a light switch)
Conceptually, letting go sounds easy.
Just… stop thinking about it. Move on. Be the bigger person. Cut your hair. Be a good leaver.
But your brain doesn’t work like that.
It clings to possibilities when things are unfinished or unresolved.
Not because you’re incapable.
But because your brain hasn’t accepted that it’s safe to let go.
This is why letting go isn’t just a mindset or talent.
It’s a trainable skill.
Letting go means:
Naming what’s still emotionally active versus what’s just mental habit
Catching yourself before the rerun plays again
Noticing what you’ve already accepted, and what still stings.
Often, what we call “overthinking” is really ungrieved change.
And what we call “closure” is really control, disguised in a neat package.
And sometimes, what we need isn’t just clarity, but containment.
You don’t need to forgive it, fix it, or fully understand it to move on.
You just need to decide it doesn’t get to run your life anymore.
Even when you’re mentally “done,” your brain might still be clinging to the thread.
Why?
Because it hasn’t got the strong-enough signal that it’s OK to let go.
Something that says: this loop is closed. The story’s over. That you’re safe to move on.
This is where small, symbolic actions are powerful.
Studies show that personal rituals, even simple ones, help regulate emotion and restore a sense of control.
Activities like:
Burning an expressive note.
Deleting a file.
Folding a paper airplane and setting it free.
Why did us humans create rituals to mark endings?
We’ve been doing it for millennia because it helps.
Do this: The letting go protocol
To develop your letting go skills, create a process or protocol, and practise it.
Let’s run through this ARC loop:
Awareness
Name what still feels open, foggy, unfinished, or quietly heavy.
Try these prompts to initiate:
I’m still carrying...
The part of me that hasn’t had space yet is…
What I never got to do or say was…
When ambiguous loss doesn’t get a clean line under it, name it to notice it.
Reconnection
Honour what matters.
Ask yourself:
What did this experience or identity mean to me?
What do I want to carry forward i.e., the learning, and what do I want to let go?
This is about exploring and finding meaning.
You want to get to statements like:
“That version of me helped me survive. But they don’t need to run the show anymore.”
“This mattered and it hurt. And now I’m making space for what matters next, so I get unstuck.”
Start grounding yourself and shifting your identity and energy.
You don’t need to erase what came before but put your own closure on it.
Containment
Signal it’s time to move on.
Create a ritual and give your brain a symbolic marker or cue that it’s safe to move on.
Here are some ideas:
Create an expressive note, artwork, or letter.
Fold it and seal it.
Burn it (safely) or tear it into something abstract.
Save a note about it somewhere under the label ‘handled.’
Remind yourself that it doesn’t have control over you anymore.
Repeat until it loses its power over you.
This gives your nervous system a subtle cue that this doesn’t need to grab your attention and run in the background anymore.
It’s OK to let go.
Key takeaways
Letting go isn’t a mindset, but a process your brain needs help with.
It won’t drop something because you tell it you’re “done.”
It needs an active cue.
A signal that says: this loop is closed.
You don’t need perfect insight, clarity, or a fully blown emotional epiphany.
You just need to mark the shift and choose what no longer takes up mental space and attention.
Growth comes with grief and loss. The roles, routines, and versions of you that no longer hold meaning or help.
You’re allowed to feel the pain and still move forward. You’ve been doing it your whole life.
Letting go isn’t forgetting.
It’s intentionally freeing up mental and emotional capacity and you get to decide what the next phase holds.
P.S. If you’re in a season of blurry transitions or quiet endings, this one’s for you. You don’t need to solve everything this month. You just need space to reflect, breathe, and to say ‘we’re done here. Let’s make room for what’s next.’ Share what you’re letting go of in the comments.
This is incredible, Sabrina! Thank you!