What are you letting go of?

Letters From The In-Between: What are you letting go of?

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Dear {{ subscriber.first_name }},

Last night, an amber alert went off on my girlfriend's phone and my entire body went into PTSD.

My mind flooded with visuals. This time last year, the California wildfires consumed our lives. I enacted one of the fastest emergency response movements for our community - Amigahood Aid. I partnered with close friends to organize donation drops, created resource sheets that were duplicated and used widely, and then my cell phone number went public. People began texting me directly, pleading for supplies, for food. When you've lost everything, you reach for anyone. They reached for me. I couldn't do nothing. So I mobilized, which I know how to do really well.

I mobilized while managing the uneasiness of an incoming administration. While running the company on dwindling brand budgets and a ridiculously lean team, serving all roles: CMO, COO, CTO, CEO, community leader, nervous system regulator, emotional support human, etc, etc. While my personal life was in disarray. While ignoring the signs my body had been giving me.

I was fighting against too many things. Too many for one human to hold.

When I heard that phone alarm last night, my body began to quiver. I cried. Not from fear, from grief. Grief for the version of me who endured so much without empathy. Who handled most of it alone, without fanfare. Who didn't want to let anyone down, so instead let herself down.

🎧 If you'd rather hear my voice, plus a reflection at the end... listen here. 🎧

And then, in the middle of the tears, a realization: I am finally safe. My body is in a safe place. My nervous system is in a safe place. My mind is in a safe place. A stark contrast to a year ago.

So let me ask you: where were you this time last year? Is it exactly where you said you didn't want to be? Or a full 180 from where you were?

I share this because I've noticed something about exceptional women: you rarely subtract. You add new on top of old - new ambitions stacked on outdated operating systems, new dreams piled onto expired identities, and wonder why you're exhausted by March. You assume your capacity is like a buffet. But if you've ever been to one, you know your stomach doesn't like that very much. Neither does your nervous system.

One of my goals this year is to become a more effective communicator. That means reframing. So let me offer you this one:

Reclamation starts with release, not acquisition.

Most people think self-reclamation is about getting something back: your time, your energy, your power. Perhaps. But what if the first act of reclamation is unclaiming what was never yours to carry?

The productivity standards borrowed from outdated "work hard, play harder" patriarchal culture, not your actual capacity. The way of operating that worked last year but quietly eroded you in the process.

And yet we keep carrying it. Because putting something down feels like quitting. Because we've confused endurance with strength. Because no one taught us that release is its own kind of power.

REAL TALK: Before you can pick up who you're becoming, you have to put down who you've been performing as.

This is why I developed The Self-Reclamation Method™, a four-phase framework for returning to yourself. Not by adding more. By releasing what's blocking the return. I built it because I needed it first. Now I'm passing it to you.

The Shattering: See the pieces you've given away.

The Descent: Go to the underworld. Let the old identity die.

The Shedding: Release what's too heavy to carry forward.

The Becoming: Return to yourself. Build from wholeness. From Sovereignty.

Over the next four weeks, I'm walking you through each phase, free, in your inbox. It's a good AF tool. The kind that will shake you, in just the right way. The Glow Up community will experience this real-time during our session on Jan 15th. If you'd like to join us, it's free, sign up here.

But we start here. With one question:

What are you ready to let go of?

Not what you should release. Not what sounds good. What's actually too heavy to carry into this next chapter?

Maybe it's a relationship that's run its course. A version of success that was never yours to begin with. A standard you've been measuring yourself against that was designed for someone else's body, someone else's life. Or maybe it's just the lie that you have to earn your rest.

Name it. That's the first act.

Hit reply, comment and tell me. Because I want to have a conversation with you.
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xo,
Vanessa
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P.S. You don't need to have it figured out. You just need to name it. That's where release begins.

P.P.S. If you do one thing after reading this letter: schedule your days off now. Not when you've earned them. Put them on the calendar. Now. Your nervous system will thank you.

xo, Vanessa