To let go doesn’t mean to stop caring; it means I can’t do it for someone else.
 
To let go is not to cut myself off; it is the realization that I can’t control another.
 
To let go is not to enable, but to allow learning from natural consequences.
 
To let go is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands.
 
To let go is not to try to change or blame another; I can only change myself.
 
To let go is not to care for, but to care about.
 
To let go is not to fix, but to be supportive.
 
To let go is not to judge, but allow another to be a human being.
 
To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes, but to allow others to effect their own outcomes.
 
To let go is not to be protective; it is to permit another to face reality.
 
To let go is not to deny, but to accept.
 
To let go is not to nag, scold, or argue, but to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.
 
To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires, but to take each day as it comes, and to cherish the moment.
 
To let go is not to criticize and regulate anyone, but to try to become what I dream I can be.
 
To let go is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.
 
To let go is to fear less and love more.
 
Perhaps it is letting go of a child or spouse, or a burden or sorrow, losing a loved one, or learning to live with a situation, which we just cannot change. Read this over, study it, pray for it, work the 12 steps, and you will find that letting go of your load will release a peace within you which will allow your spirit to soar..…to be free. Give it completely to God and let a work be done within you…where the need is anyway.
 

Letter to My Higher Power
 
Dear God,
 
Please help me. I’m lying on the cold, wet ground, holding on for dear life to my son’s (husbands) wrists.
You see, he is falling off a “cliff” and if he falls, he will die.
I’m getting tired, and he’s getting heavier. I just don’t know how much longer I can hold on.
Even though my arms ache, I’ve got to hold him up.
 
I’ve always been the strong one, but am I trying to “play God”? That’s your role, God, not mine.
It seems hard for me to trust that you can take better care of him than I.
I heard in Naranon that I should “Let Go and Let God”, and I really want to try, but I’m afraid You may not catch him and let him die.
 
I’m so cold and weary. I’m losing ground and getting weaker by the minute.
Oh, why won’t I let go? I seem to want everything in “contract form”.
Yet, if I don’t let go, eventually we’ll BOTH fall and DIE.
Why do I think I’m so powerful….that I can do it alone and handle everything?
 
I know I’m wasting a lot of time and energy by hanging on. There is so much I could be doing.
I feel drained, and all my energy is concentrated on pulling him up.
I have no goals for me…no future. I haven’t laughed or played in a long, long time.
I know I would have tremendous freedom if I would only let go.
Freedom to be my own person, and take time for and care for myself.
Someone told me to “have Faith”. I’ve got to have faith, because I know I can no longer hold on.
 
I found temporary relief by switching arms and giving one a rest, but I know that letting go is the permanent solution I’m looking for.
I’m getting desperate. I’m a mess—dirty, exhausted, and a nervous wreck.
How can I take care of someone else when I can’t even take care of myself?
My way doesn’t work. I can’t do it any longer.
Deep inside God, I know You can take better care of him than I can. You will watch him, won’t You?
 
I think I know what powerless means now, and my life is certainly unmanageable.
I realize I’m not able to control the world around me, let alone my SON (husband).
I know You know what’s best for me and my loved ones, and You love me just as I am, with all my faults.
I need to accept help from others in the Program. I don’t have to do it alone.
Striving for honesty, openness, and willingness, I know I can make it.
 
I surrender right this minute, making a decision to turn my will and my life over to Your care, as I understand You.
I pray for the knowledge of Your Will for me, and the power to carry that out.
May Thy Will be done, not mine.
With a sigh of relief, I now LET GO!
THANK GOD!
 

Let Go!
By Marsha Z
Surrender—Courage or Desperation?
 
I cling to the sheer face of the rock with bleeding fingers. My fingernails are shredded. My head pounds. My toes, pressed hard against the cliff, are numb, and my back aches from the tug of a too-heavy pack. But I must go on. “Let go!” beckons a voice from far below.
 
Let go? Who are they kidding? Even though I’m exhausted, I become angry. Leave me alone, I think. I can make it. After all, I’m a strong capable person. I’ve climbed mountains before. Besides, it’s a long way down. I have to hold on, even if I don’t advance. Letting go is far too risky.
 
But, holding on is far too hard. “Let go!” another voice calls. That one sounds vaguely familiar. Now I feel slightly trusting. Am I going insane? I think seriously of letting go, but won’t I look foolish spinning uncontrollably through the air? What if I lose my backpack and crash painfully onto the rocks below? What if I die?
 
“Let go!” Don’t they ever give up? “Have faith!”
 
Faith? What does faith have to do with anything? Doesn’t God help those who help themselves? Doesn’t He want me to do my best? Why, letting go would be quitting, admitting I’m a failure. Besides, haven’t I told God many times I could do it? Obviously faith has gotten me nowhere. Maybe I just don’t have enough faith in myself. I have to do this on my own, don’t I?
 
I exert all my power, but I still can’t budge; in fact, now I’m beginning to slip backward. My fingers are grated clear to the bone. The sun glares; sweat stings my eyes and blinds me. My load is so heavy I feel sure my back will break.
 
“God, where are you?” I cry, “Help me!” I let go.
 
Down, down, down I hurtle. This is it, I think. I knew I should have held on. The heavy backpack comes loose—what a relief! But soon I’ll hit and it will all be over.
 
“Good job,” I hear someone say. I feel hands touching me.
 
“That took courage.” More hands. Hands everywhere, holding me, cushioning my fall. Shakily I stand up. I’m bruised, my hands and knees are bloody, and my head still aches. But my vision is clearing and I look around. Before me I see a mass of smiling faces covered with scars. Some of them I recognize.
 
“What are you doing here?” I ask them.
“We came to catch you,” they answer. With their hands they support me because I’m still wobbly.
“How did you get here?” I ask.
“We let go!” they respond.
 
I notice that the air smells sweet. A soft, cool breeze soothes my skin, and a bird chirps in one of the lush green trees at the base of the cliff. A colorful array of wild flowers decorates a nearby meadow. Everything is so peaceful.
 
“Thank you!” I say appreciatively to my smiling rescuers. “You’re a brave bunch.”
“You’re brave too,” they tell me. “Come join us.”
“What do I need to do?” I ask. I’m feeling better by the second.
“Look up,” they say in unison, surrounding me protectively.
 
I look up, and high above, clinging desperately to the face of the cliff, is another lone climber bearing a heavy load.
“Help me!” the terrified climber wails.
 
“Let go!” I call to him. “We’re here!”