Let Go Like a Parent

Parents start by doing everything—tying shoes, zipping jackets, holding little hands across the street. But eventually, kids have to try things on their own. Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s hard to watch. Stepping back can feel wrong, but it’s what allows them to build confidence and learn what they’re capable of.

That same lesson shows up long after childhood ends. As adults, we still want to jump in when someone we care about is struggling. We think if we could just offer the right advice, fix the situation, or carry some of their burden, we’d make it better. But trying to do it all isn’t always helpful—it’s often the opposite.

When we take over, we might be sending the message that we don’t believe they can do it themselves. That we don’t trust their process. And that’s not the message we want to give.

It took me a long time to recognize that. I thought helping meant stepping in wherever I could—offering time, energy, even solutions before someone asked. But looking back, I see how often I misread what the moment really needed. Even when my intentions were good, I was often distracting myself from my own life by focusing on someone else’s. If I stayed busy solving their problems, I didn’t have to face the ones I hadn’t dealt with in my own.

Letting go doesn’t mean walking away. It means recognizing what’s mine to manage and what isn’t. I can watch my nephews for a few hours, but I’m not their parent. I can get tax help from my brothers, but I still have to file the forms myself. And when someone close to me is going through something heavy, I can stay close without stepping in to take control.

Just like a parent isn’t letting their child down by staying nearby while they struggle, I’ve learned I can do the same for others. I can sit with someone in their discomfort without rushing to fix it. I can be patient, listen fully, and trust they’ll find a way forward. That kind of presence leaves room for the other person to figure things out in their own time.

It’s not always easy to hold that space. I still catch myself wanting to reach in too far or offer more than is helpful. But when I slow down, take a breath, and trust the process—both theirs and mine—I open up the possibility for something better.

Letting go doesn’t mean stepping back from love. It means stepping back from control. And when I remember that, I make room for real growth. It’s not easy, but it’s worth practicing.

ACTION: Think of someone you’ve been trying to help or fix. Today, practice staying close without taking over. Let them lead the way—by listening more than offering advice, by waiting to see what they actually ask for, or by being present without jumping in. Notice what shifts when you step back, and trust that giving space is a form of care.

POST

Giving with Practice

Most religions include service, charity, or acts of giving as part of their core traditions. In Judaism, there’s tzedakah. In Christianity, tithing. In Islam, zakat. Across different belief systems...

Connection with Practice

Religious communities usually come with built-in connection. Weekly gatherings. Holiday meals. People celebrate and grieve together. That was my experience growing up Jewish. I’ve been to Seders...

Notice with Practice

Prayer is a daily ritual for many religions. In Muslim tradition, they pause to pray five times a day. Christians and Jews traditionally say a short prayer before meals. While the words and reasons...

Repeat with Practice

Across many religious traditions, chanting, singing, or repeating phrases has been part of prayer, meditation, or ritual for centuries. But you don’t need to follow a specific belief system to feel...

Rest with Practice

Many major religions set aside time each week for rest: In Judaism, the Sabbath is from Friday evening to Saturday evening. For Christians, Sunday is the traditional day. In Islam, Friday is a day of...

Choose Your battles with Support

I used to think every battle was worth fighting. If something didn’t feel right, I reacted. I spoke up, pushed back, made it known. I thought that was strength. I didn’t want to feel like a...