Letting Go Saved My Life

(Inspired from Chapter 14: Ledges on Clarity Cookies: 52 Bite-Size Discoveries for the Ravenous Soul 🍪✨)

“Leap and the net will appear.”
— Zen saying

Some moments in life don’t feel like moments at all — they feel like cliffs. And the only way forward is to take a daring leap, trusting that something — someone — will catch you.

I know this all too well. I live with a disability because I jumped off a fifth-story ledge in a suicide attempt in 1995. It happened quickly, after years of pain, chaos, and deep dysfunction within my family. I felt trapped, like there was no other escape. And in that moment, ending my life seemed like the only option left.

Later, my Pilates teacher called that jump “brave.” She said, “I wonder what else this woman cannot do if she did that!” But the truth is, it didn’t feel brave. It felt like surrendering to fear — the most chickenshit thing I’ve ever done. The true courage, I’ve come to realize, would have been to stay — to face the pain, to feel it fully, and to learn how to live through it.

“The best way out is always through.”
— Robert Frost

I hold that quote close. In many ways, it’s become a compass. I understand now what it means to go through the fire instead of trying to leap over it. Still, I also get what my teacher meant. There was something brave in stepping into the unknown — something in me that hoped, somewhere deep down, I’d be caught.

I think of a story I once heard about a woman hanging from a cliff, barely holding on after her rope broke during a rock climb. In desperation, she cried, “God, save me. I’ll do anything.”
God answered, “Anything?”
She replied, “Yes, just say the word.”
God said: “Let go.”

Let go.

That’s the leap. That’s trust.

Looking back, my suicide attempt wasn’t my first brush with despair. Once, I ran away from home with a book of matches, thinking I’d rather burn myself than keep living in misery. As I sat on the street, ready to strike the match, it started to pour — a full, heavy downpour that soaked everything. The matches, useless now, wouldn’t light. So I went home.

To this day, I believe that was God’s intervention — His way of saying, “Not yet. There’s more for you.”

So many people are slowly dying inside every day.
They stay in jobs that make their souls numb.
They tolerate relationships that drain the life out of them.
They shrink. They silence their truth.
They play it safe — until one day, they’re on their deathbed, looking back and wondering what might have been.

“Most people die at 25 and aren’t buried until 75.”
— Benjamin Franklin (paraphrased)

I read an article once about Maryanne O’Hara, a death doula — someone who helps people transition at the end of life. When asked what people regret most, she didn’t hesitate: “They think they have more time.”
So they delay what matters most. They ignore love. They put off dreams. They defer joy.
And when the end comes, they realize it was always about love. Always.

Regret is such a heavy thing to carry. I know it well.
I had regrets almost immediately after I jumped — not just because of the damage to my body, but because I wanted to live. I just didn’t know how.
Today, I see that leap as both a tragedy and a turning point — the raw, unpolished beginning of everything I would become. I don’t glorify it, but I don’t hide it either.
It’s part of the story.
And I’ve turned that story into something that can help others. Maybe even you.

If you’re in a place where you’re unhappy, make a plan. Start small. Journal. Make a bucket list. Identify the things you will no longer tolerate — maybe it’s smoking, maybe it’s shrinking your voice in rooms where it deserves to echo.

But know this: no matter how perfect the plan…
Eventually, there comes a moment when you’ll have to do one thing.
Let go.

That’s the moment everything changes.
That’s the leap.
That’s when the net appears.

I’d give anything to have my body back the way it was before. But I’m grateful — truly, wildly grateful — for the wisdom, strength, and perspective that came from letting go. Today, I have joy. I have a purpose. I have stories to tell. And I trust that everything in my life — even the messy, broken parts — are part of something beautiful being made.

I hope the same for you.
You deserve a life that feels good to live, not just one that looks good on the outside.

And if you need a place to start?
Get that haircut. Buy the shoes. Paint your nails like a woman stepping into a brand new chapter. Celebrate the letting go.You’re not alone.
Not now. Not ever.

Action Nibbles:

• Ask yourself: What ledge are you hanging onto? What’s the “safe” thing keeping you from your full, radiant life?
  
• Ask yourself: How can I let go? What would it look like to trust that you’ll be okay — that you’re worthy of more?
  
• Read about deathbed regrets. Learn from them. Don’t wait.
  
• Make a plan. Grab a notebook. Sketch out your dream life.
  
• Do something symbolic. Get that manicure. Write the goodbye letter. Cut the hair.
  Let it be a marker of the moment you said yes to life.
  

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If this blog moved something in you, I’d love to hear your thoughts — or even walk beside you as you find your own ledge to leap from. You can read more Clarity Cookies like this at ClarityCookies.com.

🕊️ You are meant to fly.