Clinical Thinking from Everyday Practice
Learning to Let Go
Sometimes the heaviest burden the body carries is not the event itself, but the struggle that never truly ends.
Emotions are not the enemy.
But when a conflict continues long after the moment has passed, the body may remain inside an experience that has never truly been allowed to end.
A woman in her early fifties came to see me recently.
She had fractured her ankle after a fall.
During the week she was confined to bed, another problem appeared.
A severe sciatic pain developed.
As we talked, the conversation slowly moved away from her ankle.
The conflict she continued carrying
She told me she had recently changed jobs.
Not because she disliked her profession.
Not because she wanted a new career.
There was simply one colleague she could no longer work with.
For months, every interaction left her feeling upset.
She replayed the conversations in her mind long after work had finished.
She carried them home.
She carried them into the evening.
She carried them into bed.
Eventually, she decided to speak honestly.
She said what she had been holding inside.
Then she made another decision.
She left that environment.
At her next visit, she told me something unexpected.
Her sciatic pain had eased considerably.
Sometimes the body changes
when a struggle finally comes to an end.
Clinical practice rarely offers simple answers
Was it because she changed jobs?
Because she finally spoke?
Because time had passed?
I cannot know.
Clinical practice rarely offers such simple answers.
But the consultation reminded me of something I have been observing for many years.
The body often pays a price for conflicts that never seem to end.
Emotions are not the problem
Many people believe that emotions are harmful.
I am not sure that is the most helpful way to see them.
Anger itself is not the problem.
Fear is not the problem.
Sadness is not the problem.
These emotions are part of being human.
What seems to matter more is what happens when the experience never truly comes to an end.
The event may be over, while the body remains inside it.
The moment passes
The conversation ends, the workplace closes and everyone goes home.
The argument continues
The mind replays what was said, imagines new replies and keeps the conflict active.
The body never rests
Sleep, breathing, digestion and muscular tension continue responding as though the confrontation were still happening.
When the conversation continues every night after everyone else has gone home.
When the argument keeps replaying in the mind.
When the body never seems to receive permission to rest.
The changes that appear over time
Over time, I often notice similar changes.
Sleep becomes lighter.
People wake during the night.
They feel exhausted even after sleeping.
Digestion becomes less comfortable.
The abdomen feels tense or bloated.
Some gain weight.
Others lose their appetite.
Pain becomes more persistent.
The symptoms may appear unrelated.
Yet they often emerge during the same period of prolonged emotional strain.
Letting go is not pretending nothing happened
Perhaps letting go is not about pretending that nothing happened.
Nor is it about suppressing anger.
Sometimes letting go means speaking the truth.
Sometimes it means leaving an unhealthy environment.
Sometimes it means deciding that another person’s behaviour will no longer occupy so much space inside our own life.
Not because they deserve forgiveness.
But because our body deserves peace.
Letting go does not require denying harm.
It may simply mean refusing to let the harm continue living inside the body long after the event has ended.
What we can observe without claiming too much
As clinicians, we cannot say that emotional conflict causes disease.
The human body is far more complex than that.
But after years of practice, one observation continues to return.
When people gradually free themselves from a conflict they have been carrying for a long time, their body often begins to change as well.
They sleep more deeply.
Their breathing softens.
Their abdomen relaxes.
Their face becomes brighter.
Sometimes, even their pain begins to settle.
Whether these changes are directly connected remains a question worth exploring.
The observations themselves, however, are difficult to ignore.
Not every battle deserves a home in the body
Perhaps one of the greatest acts of self-care is not learning how to win every battle.
Perhaps it is learning which battles no longer deserve a place inside our body.
Not every conflict needs to become
a permanent resident of the body.
A conflict may deserve a response.
A boundary.
A conversation.
A departure.
But it does not always deserve the rest of our nights, our digestion, our breath, and our future.
Letting go does not mean that what happened was acceptable.
It does not mean that anger was unnecessary or that the wound was unreal.
It may simply mean that yesterday will no longer be allowed to occupy every tomorrow.
Sometimes healing begins when we stop carrying yesterday into tomorrow.
From Protection to Living
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