A few months ago, on my early morning jog down the country road I live on, I heard a voice telling me I was being held down. I knew what it meant. I was clinging to a relationship and I needed to let go so I could fly to whatever chapter comes next. Ever been there?
It wasn't that the relationship hadn't been a good one. And it wasn't by a long shot even close to as bad as many of my messed up versions of love affairs have been. In fact, we had both learned a lot and still cared about each other. We weren't anywhere near yelling at each other in the parking lot yet (though there was one incident on a different early morning jog one time that bordered on that). And it wasn't just me that was being held down; it was both of us. But it was time to move on and I didn't want to.
