I learned this on a train in Paris. I arrived carrying perfectionism, control, and the pressure to get everything right. I was determined. Efficient. And not very happy.

As I prepared to get off the train, I let go of what wouldn’t serve the next leg of the journey. A book. A sweater. Shoes that hurt. Then I asked a braver question. What if I let go of the weight I was carrying inside? What if you allowed yourself permission to let go of what no longer serves you?