Cutting the Cord| Letting Go of What No Longer Serves

Cutting the Cord:

Letting Go of What No Longer Serves

There was a time in my life when I believed holding on meant strength.

Holding on to stories. Holding on to pain. Holding on to expectations… to control… to what I thought should have been.

And I stayed there for a long time.

Replaying old chapters. Focusing on the hard parts. Living in the what ifs… and the how am I going to’s of the future.

I thought if I just held tighter, everything would eventually make sense.

But what I have learned, slowly, is that holding on like that…to the pain, to the fear, to the expectations…was often the very thing suffocating me and keeping me from moving forward.

This season has been about noticing. About listening inward. About honoring what brought us here.

And now… it feels right to talk about what we are ready to leave behind.

Letting Go Is Layered

Letting go is layered.

It is not one thing. It is not one moment. And it does not happen all at once.

Sometimes it begins with becoming aware of what we have inherited.

Generational patterns. Survival strategies passed quietly through families.

Ways of coping that once kept someone safe… but no longer serve.

There are behaviors we did not choose.

Beliefs we did not consciously adopt.

And wounds we did not personally create, yet we have been carrying them anyway.

Letting go of generational trauma does not mean rejecting where we come from.

It means honoring our ancestors and our family, by choosing something softer for ourselves.

It is saying:

This pain stops here. This pattern ends with me.

The Family Line

For me, I can see it clearly in my own family line.

I watched my grandparents choose comfort and safety, often from a fear of losing someone, or being abandoned.

Home became their safe place. Their sanctuary.

Then I watched my parents work tirelessly for financial security, determined not to return to the life they grew up in.

But something shifted.

They took risks. They stepped outside their comfort zones. They created a new story.

And because of that… I had room to imagine my own.

I learned resilience. Work ethic. Determination.

I carry those traits along with many others.

But I also knew early on that I wanted more.

I wanted to see more. I wanted adventure.

And deep down, I always felt there had to be a different way to live than running on the hamster wheel of the American Dream.

I have carried this motto for years:

"While everyone is chasing the American Dream… I will be out creating mine."

And honestly… I have tried.

But I have also lived in the push and pull.

Escaping the cage for a breath of fresh air… a trip… an adventure…then stepping right back into it because it is what is expected.

All in the name of building a life that, if I am being honest, I do not even desire.

And that realization alone has been its own cord to cut.

The Cords of Relationship

There are also the cords we carry from past relationships.

Not just romantic ones.

But also with friendships, family dynamics, old versions of ourselves and grievances that live in the body.

And sometimes it is also conversations we replay and apologies we never received.

Sometimes we think forgiveness is for the other person…but more often, it is for our freedom.

Letting go does not mean what happened was okay.

It means we are choosing not to relive it every day.

It means we are choosing not to let those moments, or those people, control us anymore.

And we do not cut cords out of anger. We cut them out of love for ourselves.

For me, cutting cords with friendships was harder than I expected.

I spent years allowing people into my life who could break trust without even blinking.

It took me a long time to learn this truth:

Just because someone is open with me…does not mean I have to be open with them.

Especially when their behavior shows me exactly who they are.

I have been around spaces where everyone acts like best friends in person…only to tear each other apart once the room clears.

It always felt wrong to me.

I did not join in. I did not even allow myself to be added to those conversations.

I have sat at tables where someone smiled in my face, while doing something completely different behind my back.

I used to observe quietly. It felt like watching a strange competition for dominance.

Looking back, it almost feels comical.

Living it was painful.

That season is exactly why I removed myself from spaces that no longer served me.

I deleted. I stepped back. I chose peace.

And it was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

There is a moment I remember clearly…deep in my healing, out on a hike…when a memory rose up.

People who called themselves my friends. People who said they would be there.

And when it mattered…they turned away.

They believed lies. They supported those who hurt me.

That one stung.

But when I sat with it long enough, I saw something else.

It was a gift.

Because it showed me who was real. And it showed me where I had not been showing up for myself.

Where I had not spoken up. Where I tolerated what I did not deserve.

So I removed people from my life. I removed a lot.

And it felt good.

Now I know what I want in a friend.

People who show up. People who listen. People who can laugh with me. People whose words mean something.

I am not going to stop being who I am.

But I will be more intentional about where I place my energy.

Letting go of the need to be accepted by everyone is still a practice.

But it is a necessary one.

Releasing Control

Another layer of letting go is releasing control.

Control of outcomes. Control of people. Control of timing.

This one is subtle because it disguises itself as care.

But control is heavy.

It keeps us tense.

It keeps us bracing. And it creates distance with the people we love.

When we loosen our grip, we create space.

Space for trust.

Space for flow.

Space for life to meet us where we are.

Letting go of control does not mean we stop caring. It means we stop forcing.

I learned this deeply through healing spaces and again through parenting.

It is not my job to fix people. Or to control how they experience life.

Even when I love them.

That realization shifted me. From control to guidance. From fear to trust.

And in doing so, it softened all of us.

Expectations and Anger

Expectations are quiet agreements we make with life, with others, and with ourselves.

Expectations about how people should show up. How healing should look. How quickly things should resolve.

When expectations are not met, they turn into resentment. Disappointment. Anger.

For a long time, expectations were one of the heaviest things I carried.

I believed that if I kept my promises…if I showed up…others would do the same.

That belief set me up for disappointment.

Now, the phrase that grounds me is simple:

If they wanted to, they would.

It does not make me bitter. It makes me free.

Plans fall through, and I pivot. Something ends, and I create something new.

Because just because something falls apart does not mean something else cannot be built.

Anger deserves space here too.

Anger is not wrong. It is information.

But when anger becomes a long term home, it hardens us.

Learning to pause. To check in. To ask what is truly mine to carry…

That is letting go too.

Walking Lighter

As I walk with all of this, I imagine gently setting things down along the trail.

Old stories.

Outdated roles.

Unspoken resentment.

Inherited fear.

Not with judgment. Not with force.

Just with awareness.

And with each step forward, the walk feels lighter.

If you are realizing there is something you are ready to release, know this:

You do not have to let go perfectly. You do not have to do it all today. And you do not have to do it alone.

Letting go is a practice.

A return.

A remembering of who you are beneath the weight.

And sometimes… that is enough.

With Love and Gratitude,

Amber

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