Letting go

Most people will tell you that I can be pretty stubborn at times.  That comes with a lot of positives. If this were a job interview, I’d definitely have it as my response to the classic “what’s your weakness?” question/opportunity to humblebrag.  (“Oh, I never know when to give up; I just keep going ; I guess I’m quite determined really”)

Except it isn’t really like that. Yes, the sheer stubbornness does get me through a lot of things but it also makes life a lot harder.

There are the amusing ones – like the time I got really annoyed with my dad for coming to meet me half-way from the airport because of course I could get my luggage home by myself on the train without getting a taxi (2 suitcases weighing more than me, one rucksack, a poster tube, and a flute. And a bag full of honey and manjar). 

And there are the more annoying ones. Like dragging myself up Stanage Edge this morning via the most circuitous route possible because I’d decided three months ago that I was going to have some time walking in the Peaks and Stanage is always where I start. 

Despite the fact that it’s foggy and misty and grim.

Despite the fact that I really wanted/needed to stay in bed and sleep.

Despite the fact that it turned into a tortuous route because every time I had a choice, I took the path away from the Edge and towards a walk I was much more in the mood for. 

And sometimes it’s holding onto things that I really should have let go of. Redrafting my thesis and realising all the bits that I’ve kept in because I can’t let go of them, not because they add anything to the story. (And yes, all the personal stuff too)

So today is a “red pen” day, crossing out all the bits that are there because I’m stubborn rather than because they’re useful.

Now. Just need to do that with everything else


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