On Saying Goodbye

It’s taken me a few days to sit down to write this. Processing can be hard sometimes.

Saying goodbye can be extremely difficult.

Writing a letter to a friend, telling them you’re done with the relationship. No more chances, no more waiting for things to improve.

It feels almost inconceivable, turning your back on something you’ve put so much effort into.

But the truth is that sometimes the writing's on the wall.

Sometimes you give and you give and there’s not always a return of effort.

Sometimes you care so much for this thing or this person that you don’t realize that you’ve been the only one caring or giving at all in a very long time.

This dance of showing up to share, to give, to inform in a free space started out fun for me.

Then it was exhilarating.

Then it became my obsession.

And now it feels like a failure.

A failure of what? I don’t know.

Over a decade of sharing and writing on a platform under my own name, for heaven’s sake.

It shouldn’t be a failure at all. By any standard.

And yet I’ve somehow grown out of it.

I’ve grown out of the hustle. The attempt at trying to strive for more. The reaching, the seeking, the yearning to make a difference.

The truth is that I did make a difference. For thousands and thousands. Over the course of 10+ years.

But when all is said and done, it feels like saying goodbye is somehow saying goodbye to a part of myself. Under my own name, my work is going to ride off into the sunset. It feels like failing when I walk away.

But it’s okay.

It’s okay.

I’m keeping up this mantra that saying goodbye to one project means allowing and opening up to more potential projects.

It’s okay.

It’s going to be okay.

This unfurling of what’s to come. The potential unveiling of what’s next for me in life isn't what it was all those years ago.

I am deeply saddened, full of grief, to leave behind the work and hours and love and effort I’ve poured into that business and website.

I’ve been desperate to hang onto it, hoping against hope that things could be different.

But the reality is that just as much as the online world has changed, so have I.

I’m no longer infatuated with health and wellness.

Yes, I want to take care of myself.

Yes, I want what’s best for others.

But my goal, my striving, what lights me up inside isn’t in that world anymore.

In fact, I’m actually quite exhausted from it all.

I just want to live and breathe, and be.

Just be alive and living and not worrying about how I show up or what someone expects of me.

I’ll be leaving behind weekly emails about a specific diet that I followed for over a decade. Recipes, strategies, research, sharing.

All of it will live on for as long as it feels like the right thing to do. But I’m turning off paid products, subscriptions, and a weekly way to connect with others.

It feels like a cold shoulder, like I’m turning my back. But the reality is that for me, in order to move forward, I need to close this door.

I need to leave it behind to see what can be possible for me next.

So I wrote the draft.

It’s sitting in my Google Drive account, waiting to go out.

When I get brave enough, I’ll load it up, send it out, then shut it all down.

I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but this grief of losing this business, of walking away, has already taken years.

What’s another few days or weeks before I earnestly put a pin in it?

It’s time.

It’s hard, but it’s time.

I’m walking away.

But I’m hopefully walking towards the future.

To something unknown.

To something else that’s good.

For the next chapter.

For another good chapter.

It’ll be okay.