Radical Acceptance

Accepting What Is, While Letting Go of What I Can’t Change

Hey Y’all,

I know… It’s been a while.

We’ll unpack where I’ve been, but that’s for another day. For now, grab your favorite snack and beverage, and let’s chat.

There comes a time in all of our lives when we find ourselves at a crossroads—choosing between focusing on the things we can’t change or focusing on what’s actually within our control.

And if you’re anything like me, you tend to hyperfixate on the things you can’t change.

That one situation.
That one moment.
That one thing that didn’t go the way you expected.

You let it live rent-free in your mind.

You wake up, and it’s the first thing you think about.
You go to bed, and it’s the last thing on your mind.

And somehow, out of everything that happens in a day, or even in a season of your life—that’s the thing that keeps replaying.

I’ve been doing a lot of reflection lately. Studying myself, honestly.

And I kept coming back to this question:

Why is it that one bad thing becomes the entire highlight reel in our minds?

As life kept unfolding, I kept sitting with that. Turning it over. Trying to understand what it really meant for me.

Why can’t you let go of what you can’t change?

I remember my mom, and some of the friends she made during her time in rehab, talking about the Serenity Prayer.

Their sponsors would encourage them to recite it:

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference…”

I remember hearing that throughout the years, and it stuck with me.

Every so often, I’d say it to myself—almost like a chant.

But even then… I struggled with it.

Why was it so hard to actually release the things I couldn’t change?

I prayed.
Then prayed again.
And prayed some more.

And still, I found myself fixated on the very things I was asking God to help me let go of.

Why was it so damn difficult to let go of what I couldn’t change?

So I started talking about it in therapy, really unpacking the “why” behind so many of the things I did… and didn’t do.

And what I began to realize is that a lot of it had nothing to do with the situation itself.

It was me.

More specifically, it was my inability to forgive myself.

For the hard decisions I had to make.
For not knowing better at the time.
For being in situations where I had to choose without having all the information, support, or clarity I wished I had.

And coming to terms with this truth:

I did the best I could with what I had in that moment.

You grow up thinking you need to be perfect, or at least close to it—to be deserving of God’s love, grace, mercy, and acceptance.

So when you fall short… when you make decisions that don’t align with what you were taught…

You start to internalize it.

You don’t just think, “I made a mistake.”

You start to believe, “I am the mistake.”

So you hide.
Or you overcompensate.

You give, and give, and give some more.
You help.
You become the solution for everyone else.

Because somewhere along the way, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe—if you do enough good, it’ll outweigh the parts of you you’re still struggling to accept.

But here’s the question I had to sit with:

Who am I… outside of this?

Outside of the mistakes.
Outside of the expectations.
Outside of the version of myself I thought I had to be just to feel worthy?

Then I had an epiphany.

My inability to accept the things that were out of my control was rooted in this:

I thought I needed to be right to be loved.

And in trying to accept myself, I realized I had completely misunderstood what acceptance actually was.

To me, acceptance looked like failure.

And nobody likes failure… right?

Wrong.

Failure is a part of the journey.
A part of growth.

So I began to choose acceptance.

I chose to forgive.

To love truly.

Despite what I felt.

Not because everything felt okay.
Not because I didn’t still have feelings about what happened.

But because I was no longer willing to stay stuck there.

Acceptance didn’t mean I agreed with everything.
It didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt.
It didn’t mean I didn’t wish things had gone differently.

It meant I was choosing to let go of what had already happened and redirect my energy toward what I could actually do something about.

Maybe we don’t have to earn love, grace, or acceptance.

Maybe we just have to allow ourselves to experience them.

I’ll leave you with this:

“God, grant US the serenity to accept the things WE cannot change,
courage to change the things WE can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Be kind to yourself.

Until next time,

Deb