I recently finished reading Mel Robbins' book, Let
Them. There were parts of the book that made me roll my eyes, like the
notion that "no one can ruin your day; you are letting them." I mean,
come on—there are definitely people who can ruin my day. That said, I
appreciate the underlying message: we often give others the power to impact how
we feel, and ultimately, that responsibility lies with us.
For the past few years living in Wisconsin, I’ve blamed my
husband for my lack of friends. With my family living over 1,700 miles away,
making friends as an adult has been quite the challenge. Mel Robbins reminded
me that this is really a "Mary problem." You can't meet new people by
staying home, feeding your chickens, and sipping a Michelob Ultra on the porch.
Oofta! This means I need to step out of my comfort zone and start striking up
conversations with people in public to forge connections. See why the porch
seems so inviting?
I understand the Let Them concept,
especially the idea that we can't control others. People make decisions every
day that make me think, "Eh, I wouldn’t do that," but as Mel points
out, my opinions really don't matter in the grand scheme. I particularly
enjoyed her thoughts on parent-child relationships. Growing up, it was more
important for me to navigate my struggles rather than have my parents just
throw money at my problems. I learned that to be truly independent, my parents
were better off as an advice sounding board than a bank. It didn’t stop me from
eating ramen or PB&J sandwiches, but I did what I had to do to stand on my
own. To this day, if I need a comfort meal, I heat up a bowl of ramen, it
reminds me of how far I've come.
What struck me the most was the "Let Me" concept.
We hold the responsibility for our own happiness and for safeguarding our
peace. This year, I’ve been focusing heavily on protecting my peace. However,
both concepts—"Let Me" and "Let Them"—can feel somewhat
isolating. When you allow others to pursue their own paths while you focus on
yours, it can leave you feeling like you’re back well, on my porch. I
understand that wasn’t the main message of the book, but I’ve been experiencing
a sense of loneliness lately. This past Father's Day was particularly
challenging for me. Growing up in a family of eight, we were a tight-knit unit;
no one could disrupt our bond except us. I’ve carried this sense of loyalty
into my support for my husband and friends. This is where the "Let
Them" concept can be disheartening, especially for those of us who
genuinely wish the best for everyone. Just to clarify, I’m not seeking
recognition or anything in return for my kindness. I’ve come to realize that
simply being present or consistently doing things for someone doesn’t guarantee
their care or respect. That realization can be quite a lonely one.
Cherish the years that you struggled, it gives you something
to look back on and smile. I remember living in a hole in the wall with a black
lab puppy in Northern California. Now that same black lab has 20 acres to
roam.