Letting Go And Rediscovering Myself At 60: A Year Of Transformation And Growth

Letting go turns out to be quite cathartic. I’ve let go of a lot of things this year.

I let go of the notion that parenting has an expiration date—because it doesn’t, but the role certainly shifts. I let go of the sharp pang that came every time I trusted my kid to manage his life without my interference. And oh, did I fight it at first. Freedom, they call it. What a deceptive word—freedom. I’ll tell you this much: The first time you realize your child doesn’t need you in that all-encompassing, “Mom, where are my shoes?” kind of way, it’s not a champagne-popping moment. It’s an unraveling.

Deep Into The Empty Nest:

There I was, several years into the “empty nest,” wondering why this newfound freedom felt like a free fall. I had no parachute, no plan, and—here’s the kicker—I didn’t remember who the hell I was without someone depending on me. That realization sucker-punched me somewhere around mid-2024.

It’s strange, the way grief sneaks up on you. I wasn’t just grieving my changing role as a mother. I was grieving a lot. Big, life-changing losses stacked themselves on top of me like bricks: my sweet 18-year-old kitty, who’d been my constant companion longer than most people passed away; love that faded or left entirely; my business, shifting beneath my feet when I needed stability most. And, of course, the slow drift of people who mattered. A little sister who moved away, relationships that fizzled. It all felt like too much.

But was it?

Letting Go Allows Who Comes Next To Show Up:

Here’s what I learned: Grief and transformation are two sides of the same coin. And if you hold on too tightly to the things, roles, or people you’ve lost, you miss the chance to figure out what comes next. Who comes next.

For me, the “next” started as a trickle of words. Thirty words became thirty lines. Thirty lines became thirty poems—a poem for every single day of a month when the heaviness felt unbearable. I wrote my way through it. Poured the messiness, the heartbreak, and the confusion into stanzas. And when the dust settled, I looked down and realized I’d created something.

Something beautiful. Something I didn’t know I had in me.

Letting Go Allows Creativity To Flow:

Metamorphosis in Stanzas—my first book of poetry. My book. Me, writing poetry at 60! Who knew? Turns out, I love the medium. There’s something about the simplicity of poetry that helps you hold the complexity of life in your hands. It’s a container, a witness. And it gave me permission to grieve, to heal, and to meet myself again.

Because that’s the secret they don’t tell you about transformation. It hurts. It’s messy. It forces you to let go of the parts of your life that no longer fit—like jeans you’ve been holding onto since 2002. You have to grieve them. And then, if you’re lucky, you stumble into something new. Something you didn’t know you were capable of.

Here’s the other thing about letting go: You don’t do it all at once. You peel back one layer, and there’s another waiting underneath. This year taught me to let go of:

The need to fix things for everyone else.
The guilt of enjoying my own life when my “mothering” isn’t needed 24/7.
The fear of trying something new, like publishing a damn poetry book!

When You Allow Metamorphosis To Occur:

Letting go didn’t kill me, though there were days it felt like it might. Instead, it showed me who I am now. And I have to say—I kind of like her. She’s a woman who writes poems and publishes them. She’s a woman who cries over her old cat because 18 years is a lifetime of love. She’s a woman who accepts that friendships ebb and flow, that loss is inevitable, and that freedom—real freedom—comes from trusting yourself to handle it all.

And while we’re here, let’s raise a glass to this: It’s never too late to become something new. It’s never too late to remember who you were before the world, before your kids, before life piled on all those roles and expectations. For me, writing Metamorphosis in Stanzas wasn’t just about poetry. It was about remembering me.

So, What Did 2024 Teach Me?

That sometimes, the most transformative years look like chaos and grief from the outside. But inside that storm, you’re breaking open and becoming something you couldn’t have imagined.

As I stand on the edge of a new year, I’m proud of what I let go of. I’m proud of what I found. And most of all, I’m proud of the woman I’ve met in the process.

She’s still a little wobbly at times, but damn—she’s strong.

To every woman who’s grieving, healing, rediscovering, or creating something entirely new: I see you. And when you’re ready, let it go. Because what’s waiting on the other side is worth it.

Shameless Plug & Gift Offer:

Right now, you can pre-order your copy of Metamorphosis in Stanzas and receive 12 beautiful digital inspirational cards to gift this Holiday season. Each card carries a QR code with a snippet of one of the 30 poems found in my first (and defintiely not last) book of poetry – Metamorphosis in Stanzas. It’s also a no-brainer price of $14.99 for ALL THREE – (the cards, the paperback book, and I throw in the eBook for free.)

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