Lesson 4: “…people can only meet you, as deeply as they’ve met themselves.” – Matt Kahn
It’s not about you. It’s about them.
In June 2024, I flew into Bangkok, Thailand, carrying physical injuries, a weary heart, and the lingering effects of a viral infection that had followed me across three countries. I had been sick for weeks, and the full extent of my injuries—physical, emotional, and mental—was far worse than I had imagined.
But through the thick of it, my biggest lesson emerged. And as I reflect on that time now, I can’t help but see that all of it was necessary to bring me here:
To a place where I choose me.
Where I respect my boundaries and speak up about what I need.
Where I unapologetically hand back the burdens that were never mine to carry.
It’s been a game changer.
Lesson 4: “…people can only meet you, as deeply as they’ve met themselves.” – Matt Kahn
It’s not about you. It’s about them.
In my late twenties, I began to entertain the idea of letting go of people and things that no longer served me. For someone who is all too familiar with grief, abandonment, and an acute awareness of being alone, this was a daunting prospect. The idea of “letting go” felt frightening. I often associated it with being left behind—something I struggled with intensely in the early days of Nickolas’ passing. I found myself isolated, angry, and deeply resentful that others seemed to move right along while I remained stuck, fumbling to find a light switch in a dark room.
Over time, I began practicing letting go, albeit in small ways. Don’t quote me on this, but at one point, it was believed in some psychotherapy circles that awareness alone could spark change. More recent research and my own experience has shown that simply knowing something isn’t enough. Real change requires effort and commitment. For me, the biggest motivator was that once I knew better, I couldn’t unknow it. I couldn’t unsee the patterns, or pretend I didn’t feel the shift.
Fast forward to last summer: I let go of someone. A connection I once valued had become draining, no matter how tightly I wanted to hold on. I was emotionally and mentally too spent to keep pouring energy into a bond riddled with recurring conflict, where we struggled to bounce back each time—both individually and together. The final straw was his reaction to my grief and vulnerability. He wasn’t the first, and he won’t be the last, who didn’t know how or chose not to hold space with compassion.
That was the moment everything clicked. I began to understand every single person who couldn’t sit with me in my grief. It wasn’t about me. It had everything to do with them.
This realization gave me a sense of empowerment I hadn’t felt before. Letting go no longer felt like abandonment or punishment. It softened. It became an act of love toward myself. For the first time, I enforced boundaries with clarity and precision. Letting go became a conscious choice to protect the inner peace I worked so hard to build.
I’m no longer interested in apologizing for making others uncomfortable with my vulnerability, grief, or truth. I refuse to erode my integrity or dismiss the hellish days I’ve survived just to make space for those who haven’t done the work. Shrinking myself to accommodate someone else’s fragility is a price I’m no longer willing to pay. The work of healing is daunting. It requires daily courage and commitment, often without immediate results, but I’ve shown up for it, every single time.
This realization, this emotional epiphany has been one of the most significant lessons I’ve learned, not just for this sabbatical, but for a lifetime. I’ve always known intellectually that people’s reactions are more about them than me. But to truly feel that, to embody it, was both sobering and freeing.
As I bring this lesson to a close, I feel a surprising tinge of sorrow for those who couldn’t hold that space for me. Maybe they’ve never known the kind of love so profound that the grief mirrors that depth. Because love and grief are inextricably linked. Because you can’t have one without the other.
And in this life, I have been loved. I have loved in return.
For that, I am deeply grateful.
Still catching up? Lesson 3 is here—a look at how nothing happens the way we expect, and why that might be the point.