Okay, can we just pause for a second? I was scrolling through my phone the other night—you know, that dangerous pre-bedtime scroll where you tell yourself “just five more minutes” and then suddenly it’s 1 AM—and I stumbled upon something that made me snort-laugh. It was a meme about how we all have that one friend who sends us a voice memo that’s basically a full podcast episode. And I thought, yes, that’s me. I’m that friend. But also, it got me thinking about how much of our lives we spend just… sorting through stuff. Digital clutter, mental clutter, actual physical clutter in that drawer we’re all afraid to open.

So today, I wanted to chat about something that’s been on my mind lately: the art of letting go. Not in a dramatic, “I’m burning all my journals and moving to a monastery” kind of way (though some days, tempting). More like the small, everyday decisions we make about what we keep, what we release, and how we make space for the things that actually matter. Because honestly? I think we’re all carrying around a little too much—and I don’t just mean the 47 unread emails in my inbox.

The Great Unsubscribe (And Other Tiny Liberations)

Let me paint you a picture. Last week, I decided to clean out my email inbox because I was getting that tight-chest feeling every time I opened my phone. You know the one. So I sat down with my coffee, fully prepared to spend an hour doing “admin stuff,” and what did I find? I was subscribed to the newsletter of a bakery I visited once in Portland. In 2019. I don’t even live in Portland. I haven’t thought about that bakery since I ate their overpriced croissant. And yet, there it was, taking up space in my brain and my battery life.

I spent the next twenty minutes just hitting “unsubscribe” on everything that didn’t bring me joy or useful information. It felt like a tiny rebellion. And I realized that this is the secret, isn’t it? We think “letting go” has to be this big, heavy, emotional thing—like decluttering your entire life in one weekend Marie Kondo-style. But really, it’s the small stuff. It’s the email subscriptions, the apps on your phone you haven’t opened in six months, the group chat you’re only in because you feel guilty leaving.

Here’s what I did, and maybe you’ll want to try this too:

• Unsubscribed from every promotional email that didn’t make me feel excited to open it.
• Deleted three apps that were just digital versions of stress (looking at you, news app that only shows me disasters).
• Left a group chat that was mostly people sending “lol” to each other’s memes but never actually talking. It felt weird for a day, then amazing.
• Put my phone on “Do Not Disturb” during my morning coffee. Just for 30 minutes. It felt illegal at first, now it’s my favorite part of the day.

And you know what? Nothing exploded. The world kept spinning. My friends still love me. I just had a little more room in my head for things that actually matter.

When “Maybe Someday” Becomes “Not Today”

Here’s where it gets a little deeper, though. Because the digital stuff is easy—it’s just deleting pixels. The harder stuff is the physical and emotional clutter. You know that box in your closet? The one with the old concert tickets, the ex’s hoodie you “forgot” to return, and the birthday cards from people you haven’t spoken to in years? Yeah. That box.

I have one of those. It used to be a shoebox, then it became a tote bag, and now it’s a full-on plastic bin under my bed. And every time I move apartments, I lug it with me, telling myself I’ll “sort through it someday.” But someday never comes, does it? Because sorting through it means facing the fact that I’m not the same person I was when I kept those things. And that’s scary. It’s like admitting that time actually passes and people change and some chapters just… end.

But here’s the thing I’m learning, slowly and painfully: holding onto something doesn’t make the memory stronger. It just makes your arms tired. So last weekend, I did it. I opened the bin. I sat on my bedroom floor with a glass of wine (for courage, obviously) and I went through everything. And you know what I found? I didn’t even remember why I kept half of it. There was a receipt from a grocery store I don’t even recognize. A movie ticket stub from a film I can’t remember seeing. I literally kept trash. Emotional trash, but trash nonetheless.

So I made a deal with myself. I kept the things that genuinely made me smile—like the photo of me and my college roommate at our graduation, both of us looking ridiculously young and hopeful. And I let go of the rest. I took a picture of the stuff I was releasing (weird, I know, but it helps me feel like I’m honoring it) and then I recycled or donated what I could. The rest went in the bin. The bin went to the curb.

And I won’t lie to you—it felt a little sad. But it also felt like I could finally breathe. Like I’d cleared out a corner of my brain that was just full of static.

The Permission Slip You Didn’t Know You Needed

Here’s what I really want you to take away from this, friend. We spend so much time telling ourselves that we have to hold onto things—relationships, habits, objects, even opinions—because that’s what “good” people do. We stay in friendships that drain us because we’ve known them since middle school. We keep clothes that don’t fit because we might “get back into them.” We hold onto grudges because we feel like letting go means we’re admitting we were wrong.

But here’s my little truth bomb for today: letting go isn’t giving up. It’s making room. It’s saying, “I value my peace more than I value this thing that’s weighing me down.” And that’s not selfish. That’s survival. That’s growth. That’s you choosing yourself, which is honestly one of the bravest things you can do.

I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m not saying you’ll do it all in one weekend and emerge as a zen master. I’m saying you can start small. Unsubscribe from one email list. Delete one app. Put one thing in the donation bag. Text that friend you’ve been meaning to reconnect with, or—here’s a wild one—leave the group chat that’s been making you feel weird. You have permission. I’m giving it to you, and you should give it to yourself.

Because at the end of the day, life is short. And I don’t want to spend it carrying a tote bag full of receipts from a life I don’t even live anymore. I want to spend it with my hands free, ready for whatever comes next. And I think you do too.

So here’s my challenge to you, if you’re up for it: pick one thing this week—just one—that you’re ready to let go of. It can be tiny. It can be huge. It can be an email subscription or an old grudge. And just… release it. See how it feels. I bet it feels lighter than you expected.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a drawer in my kitchen that’s been calling my name. It’s full of rubber bands and takeout menus from restaurants that closed during the pandemic. It’s time. 🤍