v.12 Moving On: Gratitude, Boundaries and the Art of Letting Go
Welcome to Life, Created—a new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
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I’m not usually one for life advice wrapped in sparkly metaphors, but every now and then, something hits just right. And weirdly enough, it often comes from the most unexpected places—like a 1970s musical I wasn’t planning to re-watch. But leave it to Dorothy from The Wiz to drop a one-liner so good it smacked me in the damn face: “Count your blessings and cut your losses.” Who knew I’d find my life motto somewhere between disco beats and a yellow brick road? Alas, here we are.
“Count your blessings and cut your losses,” This right here is a lesson that I’ve had to re-learn more times than I care to admit to.
I’ve held onto friendships, commitments, and goals for way too long, hoping they’d magically turn into what I wanted them to be. Surprise: they didn’t. Because holding on out of habit or hope doesn’t make something worthwhile or real. And in letting go— we learn to stop pouring energy into things that no longer pour anything back.
But why is it so hard to cut our losses and let go? Welp, I blame our deep cultural obsession with “not enoughness.” Not successful enough, not productive enough, not happy enough. It’s like we’re all trapped in this endless loop of believing we need more. We’re bombarded by messages (and sometimes, people) that tell us, regardless of how happy and stable we are, that we need more money, more friends, more accomplishments—so we stay stuck, afraid to lose anything while clinging to everything. Afraid that letting go of one thing means losing it all.
“Count your blessings” snaps me out of this loop every time. Because it shifts the narrative away from scarcity and grounds me back into what I do have: the mundane, the beautiful, the sometimes-overlooked gifts —the microjoys that have been here all along.
Shaker, our ginger cat, is the sweetest damn cat you’ll ever meet. And also, pink. Always.
This perspective isn’t about pretending hard things don’t exist. I’ve been there, knee-deep in the hardest parts of life that demanded my attention. And there’s no bypassing that. When life requires us to sit in the hardest shit— sit, we must. But here’s what I also know: the hard parts don’t deserve to be the only thing I see.
Gratitude has saved me from getting swallowed whole, reminding me to zoom out and notice what’s actually good. And when I’ve finally cut my losses—whether it was letting go of a relationship that drained me or a goal that no longer fit—it felt like opening a window in a room I didn’t realize had grown so stale.
“Count your blessings and cut your losses” isn’t just a feel-good phrase for me. It’s deeply personal. It’s about learning, over and over again, that I don’t need to hold onto something just because I once thought it mattered. Letting go isn’t failure; it’s freedom. And every time I’ve cleared that space, something better has shown up—whether it was deeper relationships, new opportunities, or even just the peace of knowing I was finally unburdened.
So, here’s where I’ve landed: gratitude and letting go, go hand in hand. Gratitude reminds us of what’s real, and cutting our losses gives us the courage to move forward. Together, they’ve taught me to stop chasing what isn’t working and make room for what actually matters, today. And in a world that’s always whispering “more,” choosing what strengthens and fulfills us feels like the boldest—and most freeing—choice we could make.
Every essay features a section called “One Fine Microjoy” – an experience, place, or thing that brings me joy, grace, and hope amidst life’s ups and downs. I hope it invites you to recognize and appreciate the delights that ground, inspire, and enrich our journey.
Getting a short winter haircut felt like a microjoy I didn’t know I needed. There’s something about chopping off these tired ass ends and seeing a fresh style in the mirror that makes me feel a little lighter—like I’ve taken control of one small corner of chaos in Cyndie-land. There’s something satisfying about looking in the mirror and thinking, Yep, this definitely works. It’s the kind of low-stakes change that makes you feel like you’ve got your shit together (even if we’re still in sweatpants).
That’s all for this week.
Welcome back to Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
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