When It’s Dead, Let It Go

Spring reminds us: letting go isn’t loss—it’s making room.

Spring Shows You What Made It—and What Didn’t

Spring does this thing every year that makes you pause if you’re paying attention.

Everything starts to come back to life. The brown fades out, the green pushes in, trees start budding, and flowers show up like they’ve been waiting for their moment. It’s that shift you can feel as much as you can see.

And then there’s always one.

One tree surrounded by all that life… and it has nothing. No buds. No leaves. No sign it’s even trying. You walk over, bend a branch, and it snaps instantly. That’s when you know—it didn’t make it through the winter.

Not slow to bloom. Not confused. Just… done.

Not Everything Is Meant to Come With You

And whether we realize it or not, the same thing happens in our lives.

Not everything is meant to survive the season you’re in.

Sometimes it’s a relationship. Sometimes it’s a business direction, a goal, or even a version of yourself that got you here but isn’t meant to go with you where you’re headed next. We don’t always recognize it right away, though. In fact, most of the time, we keep pouring into it long after it’s already run its course.

When Things Shift, You See What Was Really There

I’ve had to face that more directly than I expected.

There were relationships in my life that felt solid for a long time. But when I shifted how I show up in my work—when I expanded how I support my clients and started bringing in new tools and approaches—it became really clear that some of those connections were tied to a very specific version of me.

When that version changed, the relationships did too.

The conversations slowed down. The engagement dropped off. And if I’m being honest, it forced me to see that some of those relationships only existed because of proximity and alignment in one area—not because there was depth outside of it.

That’s not easy to admit. And it definitely didn’t feel great.

But when I took a step back and looked at it without trying to fix it or force it, the truth was pretty simple: those relationships served me for a period of time. They just weren’t meant to grow with me into the next one.

That doesn’t make them bad. It just means they’re no longer mine to carry.

Keeping What’s Dead Doesn’t Help What’s Alive

Out on our land, we’ve had to make the same call with trees.

We’ve planted maples and fruit trees, and some of them didn’t survive the winter. We could leave them there, but they’re not growing, and they’re not contributing to anything around them. They’re just taking up space.

So we will pull them out.

Not because we did anything wrong. Not because we’re frustrated. But because keeping something that’s no longer alive doesn’t serve what is.

Your Brain Will Try to Talk You Out of This

There’s a reason it’s hard to let go, even when something clearly isn’t working.

Your brain is wired to keep you safe, not to help you grow. The amygdala—what I call the “critter brain”—prefers what’s familiar, even if it’s uncomfortable, over stepping into something unknown.

So we stay in situations that drain us. We keep relationships that feel one-sided. We hold onto ideas, identities, and expectations that don’t fit anymore, because at least we know what they feel like.

And without realizing it, we end up investing energy into something that isn’t capable of giving anything back.

When You’re Not Sure What to Do Next, This Helps

At some point, you have to decide to look at it honestly.

Not what it used to be. Not what you hoped it would become. Just what it is right now.

When you’re not sure what to do next, this helps:

• Pause and call it what it is. Not the potential. Not what it was. What is this right now?

• Decide if it’s temporary or complete. Does it need a boundary… or is it actually finished?

• Create a little space. Step back enough to see clearly—less input, less energy, less overextending.

• Expect resistance from your brain. That pull to go back? That’s normal. Familiar doesn’t mean aligned.

• Take one clean step forward. A boundary, a conversation, or a quiet decision that you follow through on.

Letting Go Is Usually Quieter Than You Think

None of this has to be dramatic. Most of the time, it’s not.

It looks like creating space.
It looks like stepping back or sideways or around to move forward.
It looks like no longer overextending yourself to keep something alive that isn’t responding.

And sometimes, it looks like making one clean decision and sticking to it, even when it feels uncomfortable.

Drop the Suitcase

I always picture it like carrying a suitcase you didn’t realize had gotten heavy.

You’ve been dragging it behind you for so long that it just feels normal. Inside it are all the things that didn’t make it—old relationships, expectations, versions of you that don’t fit anymore. And your hand is gripping it so tightly that you haven’t stopped to ask if you even need to be carrying it. * Maybe that’s why I have a thumb issue!*

Letting go isn’t about throwing it or making a scene. It’s about opening your hand and allowing it to drop so you can keep walking forward without it.

Make Space for What’s Ready

And what most people don’t realize is that the moment you do that, something shifts.

You have more capacity.
More energy.
More room to actually receive something that’s aligned with where you are now.

Because space isn’t empty. It’s available.

Spring doesn’t try to revive what didn’t survive. It grows what’s ready.

There’s probably something in your life right now that already has your answer.

The only question is whether you’re willing to act on it.

“If it didn’t survive this season, it’s not yours to carry into the next.”

This blog is just the beginning.
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