Letting Go

There’s a specific kind of adulthood that happens at work when you realize that the dream that kept you motivated is now billing you. Monthly. With late fees. And somehow, you’re the one apologizing for “falling behind.”

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  • Maybe it was the promotion you were “next up” for.
  • The team you thought would finally stabilize.
  • The project that was going to “change everything.”
  • The leader who swore they’d back you… right after Q1… right after the re-org… right after the moon phases align.
  • Or the “work-life balance” you postponed like a software update, telling yourself you’d start having a life again right after this one last sprint (narrator: it was never the last sprint).

At first, dreams feed you. They make the hard days feel like plot. Then, quietly, the ratio flips. You start paying with:

  • energy you don’t recover,
  • optimism you can’t replenish,
  • time you keep “investing” because you already invested time (rude little psychological trap, that one).

But sometimes staying hopeful is not resilience. It’s avoidance in a nice sweater. And letting go sounds like failure until you remember what it actually is: A decision to stop renting your future from a fantasy.

Still, it hurts. Because you’re not just releasing an outcome. You’re releasing a version of yourself that was built around it. That’s where the longing comes from. Not weakness. Not drama. IDENTITY.

When I’m coaching someone through this, I don’t start with “move on.” I start with a tiny, practical inventory:

SKILLS: What did this dream help you build that you keep?

NETWORK: Who’s real in your corner when the storyline changes?

ACTIVITIES: What actions actually move your life forward this week (not someday)?

KNOWLEDGE: What truth are you avoiding because it’s… inconveniently accurate?

You don’t need a new dream immediately; what you need is traction.

Because reality becomes livable the moment you give yourself a next step that isn’t imaginary.

Your turn: What’s a dream (at work or outside it) you’ve outgrown, but haven’t admitted it yet? And if you’re willing—what’s one “SNAK move” you’re making this week to walk back into reality?

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