The Year I Learned to Let Go (A Little)

Reflections from a recovering control enthusiast

Every year on my birthday, I take stock. Not in the “Where am I on the 5-year plan?” way (although she still pops up from time to time), but in a quieter, more grounded way, like asking, What did this year teach me? And more importantly, What do I want to carry forward?

This year’s answer came in soft, steady waves — not with a bang. It whispered its way into my life slowly, through late-night conversations, detours I didn’t ask for, and moments where control slipped through my fingers and, somehow, it was okay.

It taught me to trust.
Not in the Pinterest-board-manifestation kind of way.
But in the wait and see kind of way.

 Letting Go Is Not My Default

Let’s be clear: letting go is not my thing. I love a spreadsheet. I am a known itinerary maker. I find safety in a good plan (color-coded, obviously). But the last year didn’t give me the luxury of certainty.

Career shifts, identity pivots, a lot of internal “what now?” moments… they all added up to one big experiment in surrender. And here’s the wildest part: the more I leaned into not knowing, the more things somehow worked out.

 Trust, But Not Toxic Positivity

This isn’t a pitch for toxic positivity. (If you know me, you know that’s a fast way to get side-eyed. Looking at you, Grayson.)

It’s not about slapping a silver lining on hard things or pretending everything is fine when it’s clearly not. It’s about the practice (and it is a practice) of saying:
I don’t know how this will unfold, but I believe it will.

There were plenty of reasons to spiral this year. Some doors closed without warning. Some plans cracked open into uncertainty (alongside my literal foundation - what a fun surprise). But the more I’ve allowed space between action and outcome, the more I’ve chosen to pause instead of panic, the more I’ve seen evidence that trust works.

 It’s Not Just Me

One of the most beautiful parts of building The Peach Collective is doing life alongside five women who are also in the thick of it: growing, shifting, softening, starting over.

In the past year alone, between the six of us:
- One of us started grad school.
- One of us kept grinding through it.
- Two of us moved to new places (same city, fresh start).
- One became a mom.
- All of us made major career moves (not always by choice).

And every time, we chose to believe it would work out, even if the “how” wasn’t clear yet. And every time, somehow, it has. That doesn’t mean there weren’t tears, doubts, or Amazon panic orders in the mix. But there was also a deep knowing that we’re allowed to not have it all figured out and still move forward.

 Peace, But Make It Surprising

And here’s the wildest part of all: I’m the most at peace I’ve ever been.
Not because everything is tied up in a bow, it’s not. I still have my moments where I want things done yesterday and occasionally spiral over things I can’t control (growth is a process, not a personality transplant). But overall? I’m happy. I’m steady. I’m thriving, as the girlies say. And it turns out, that feeling doesn’t come from forcing clarity, it comes from learning to live without needing all the answers upfront.

 So What Now?

If you’re reading this in your own season of uncertainty, or if you're someone who clutches to control like it’s a life raft (hi, welcome), here’s your gentle reminder:
You don’t have to force clarity before you move.

You can trust what’s blooming, even if you can’t fully name it yet.

And if you want to walk that journey with us, a little less alone, a little more supported, we’ve got something special coming. Our membership (launching soon) is built on exactly this kind of magic: soft structure, shared momentum, and space to grow into whoever you’re becoming next.

What would it look like to loosen your grip, just a little, and trust what’s unfolding?

We’re rooting for you. And we’re just getting started.