{"id":612,"date":"2014-09-08T08:41:29","date_gmt":"2014-09-08T12:41:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/?p=612"},"modified":"2019-09-13T06:15:42","modified_gmt":"2019-09-13T10:15:42","slug":"to-let-go","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/to-let-go\/","title":{"rendered":"To Let Go"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/ToLetGo2.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright size-large wp-image-614\" src=\"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/ToLetGo2-785x1024.jpg\" alt=\"In Ithaca, New York, Robin Botie holds onto her daughter's stuffed puppy and old cowboy boots but she lets go of the pink boa and her manuscript.\" width=\"625\" height=\"815\" srcset=\"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/ToLetGo2-785x1024.jpg 785w, https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/ToLetGo2-768x1002.jpg 768w, https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/ToLetGo2-624x814.jpg 624w, https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/ToLetGo2-230x300.jpg 230w, https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/ToLetGo2.jpg 1227w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 625px) 100vw, 625px\" \/><\/a>\u201cDon\u2019t give me any gifts. Unless it\u2019s something I can eat,\u201d I tell my friends. \u201cI\u2019m trying to unload, let go, recycle, send to the Salvation Army. I\u2019ve been hanging on to too much for too long.\u201d Like all the stuff I collected when my father died and everything I clung to after my daughter died. And like the manuscript I\u2019ve been writing for three years. The manuscript that says, \u201cYou don\u2019t have to let go of the one you love and thought you lost.\u201d<br \/>\nSo I\u2019m wondering, what do I let go of and what do I keep, and why?<\/p>\n<p>There\u2019s my father\u2019s gray bathrobe. It\u2019s too big and totally not my color. I hang onto it because when I wear it I feel closer to him. Okay, this stays. But I don\u2019t have to keep the hot-pink fake boa his girlfriend gave me.<\/p>\n<p>My daughter\u2019s stuffed puppy that she slept with every night of her life is a keeper. Until the day I cremate Puppy on a beach in Australia. Some things, like Marika\u2019s poems and songs, I will never give up; her words encourage me. I wear her old cowboy boots to remind myself to be bold. But my closet is full of her tank tops and soccer socks. Someone else is going to love these.<\/p>\n<p>As for the manuscript, the truth is I\u2019ve kept it to myself because I\u2019m afraid it\u2019s not good enough. I\u2019m <a href=\"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/holding-on-letting-go\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">scared <\/a>of it being critically reviewed and rejected.<\/p>\n<p>Fear is not a good reason to keep something. But fear is what I have and like grief, it isn\u2019t simply let go of or gotten over. Like with grief, I need to face it, dive into it now and then, and explore it from the inside out. Isn\u2019t this why I kept Marika\u2019s cowboy boots?<\/p>\n<p>In my mother\u2019s house in Massachusetts, the sun splashed over the dining room table as I copied my query letter and the first ten pages of my manuscript into an email addressed to a carefully chosen literary agent. I paused to remember my daughter, her friend <a href=\"http:\/\/www.dontletthecancerwin.org\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Jake<\/a>, my father, and all the family and friends who watched me fumble, fall at times, and sometimes fly while I wrote my story. Sitting rigidly at the edge of the chair, I pressed cold fingertips into my chin.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGo for it, mom,\u201d I heard inside my head. Then I hit SEND.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t give me any gifts. Unless it&rsquo;s something I can eat,&rdquo; I tell my friends. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m trying to unload, let go, recycle, send to the Salvation Army. I&rsquo;ve been hanging on to too much for too long.&rdquo; Like all the stuff I collected when my father died and everything I clung to after my daughter [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[241,246,243,247,242,245,244],"class_list":["post-612","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-1","tag-clinging-to-things","tag-facing-fears","tag-fear-of-rejection","tag-grief","tag-submitting-a-manuscript","tag-to-keep-or-not-to-keep","tag-to-let-go"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/612","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=612"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/612\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=612"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=612"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=612"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}