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When I used to think of “wellness,” I thought of things like chia seeds, gym memberships, and buying expensive candles that smelled like pine forests I’d never visit. But somewhere along the way, I realized wellness isn’t just about what I eat or how flexible I am in yoga class (for the record: not very). It’s very much about the mental and emotional well-being—protecting the part of me that no one else can see but that affects everything. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, as I am going through one of life’s phases. Desperate for change. Longing for something different. Filled with hope, I got an array of books I thought would  help me make sense of things.  The hardest part of that journey has been learning how to let go. Letting go of people, habits, and even dreams I once held so tightly. And if I’m being honest, it never starts with logic—it starts with a gut feeling. I remember a friendship I had in my twenties. On paper, it was perfect: we laughed a lot, we hung out constantly, we were “inseparable.” But every time I left her house, I felt drained, like someone had unplugged my charger. I’d replay conversations in my head, questioning myself, wondering if I said the wrong thing. At first, I brushed it off as overthinking. But deep down, my gut was already telling me: this connection is costing more than it’s giving. Then there was the job I thought was my dream. It had the title, the paycheck, the shiny business card. I pushed through late nights, constant emails, and that Sunday night dread that crept in like clockwork. Everyone else thought I was thriving, but I’d wake up with a pit in my stomach every morning. My gut wasn’t whispering anymore—it was shouting. It took me longer than I’d like to admit to listen, but when I finally walked away, I realized how much of myself I’d been sacrificing just to “make it work.” And relationships? Oh, they’ve been some of the biggest teachers. One, in particular, taught me more about letting go than anything else. He was kind, charming, and someone I thought would be in my forever story. But deep down, there was always this sense of instability—like I couldn’t fully relax. My gut never settled, and no amount of love could quiet that feeling. Walking away was heartbreaking. But years later, I can see it clearly: he wasn’t meant to be permanent. He was meant to teach me. That’s the thing: not every person or situation is supposed to last. Some are here for a season, to hold up a mirror, to teach us boundaries, or to show us what we value most. They serve their purpose, and then we have to do the hard part—thank them for the lesson, and let go. Letting go feels terrible at first. It feels like pulling up roots. You cry, you doubt yourself, you wonder if you’ll regret it. But once you do it—really do it—the relief is undeniable. It’s like carrying a backpack full of bricks and suddenly setting it down. You don’t even realize how heavy it was until you’re free of it. For me, wellness isn’t about living a picture-perfect life where everything feels “positive.” It’s about listening to my gut, honoring my energy, and choosing people and places that leave me lighter, not smaller. It’s about trusting that some things are meant for a time, not forever. And it’s about believing that by letting go, I’m actually making room for better things to come. Wellness, in the end, is about creating a life where your mind, heart, and spirit can breathe. And sometimes, the bravest act of self-care is simply saying, “This isn’t for me anymore.”