Let. It. Be.

 

I had a cousin. Her name was Jenna. She was 31 and died this last winter of brain cancer. She was brave. Always optimistic. Her mom, herself, and her sister all got matching tattoos that read ‘Let it be’ from the Beetles song.

Not saying they were big Beetles groupies, but they liked the idea behind the song, and to not sweat the small stuff.

They threw a party in Jenna’s memory, and at that party a friend made necklaces out of pop tops, with an image of a peach (Jenna’s nickname was Peaches) and it said ‘Let it be’ over it.

I wear it often, because lately I’ve had to channel my inner Jenna, to remind myself that life is to short to sweat the details, the childish behavior of some people, the petty fighting, the name calling. It’s all to much anymore.

My life is too short to fight over this. My energy is not worth the anxiety. My children don’t need me back in ‘ANGRY MOM’ mode. It’s just not fair.

I took this picture of myself last night. I was sitting on my parents fireplace ledge. I was happy to be celebrating my birthday, but mentally exhausted from the weeks before of all the drama around what is supposed to be the planning of a trip to the happiest place on earth.

I am strong. I am tired. I am done. I’m tired of insults. Of words that hurt. Of crushed souls. Of greed. Of hate. Of who’s side are you on?  I want to ‘Let it be’. In the words of Jenna, Carol and Tess… oh and the Beetles… can we please just ‘Let it be’

Feisty