There’s a shirt I loved from a store in South Haven. It’s basically a t-shirt, but it’s beautiful and has the Ram Das quote “We are all just walking each other home” on it. It’s $76 and that’s way too much. I want it but not that much.

But I’m still thinking about it. I might just buy it anyway. Partially to not regret not buying it. Partially because I think I’ll keep thinking about it if I don’t. Partially because why not, if I love it this much, I’m allowed. But I knew I loved it when I left the store without it.

This is the lowest possible grade, incredibly low stakes version of “the feeling.” The feeling that controls me more than I control myself. The feeling that makes choices not feel so much like options. The feeling that comes as a side effect of the strength I possess to endure far longer than most. I can hold on like nobody’s business. And so I can fight ’til the ends of the earth when it matters. And so I can race pretty well. And so I can care with seemingly unlimited capacity.

But I don’t think the only way to keep the parts of this that serve me is to accept it’s all or nothing. I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think I have to hold on to everything always or nothing at all.

* * *

I don’t want to share this part as transparently as usual because I think it could be harmful to do so. I’m trying to get better at not having to explain everything with perfect completeness anyway, so maybe this is good practice.

With some mental illness, several times I’ve experienced a kind of brain rewiring that is quite palpable and sometimes sudden. My brain confuses what is good and what is bad, what is healthy and what is not; instincts are overridden and self-protective choices lose their intuitiveness. Instead, destructive behaviors become something rewarding.

I don’t think the rewiring is a choice, but the untangling has to be. I’ve done it before. It would be a lie to say the fixing feels as transformative as the breaking, but if they could be objectively measured, logically their power must be balanced.

* * *

I decide to let go of this shirt. I decide it’s not going to be something I give myself. I decide to save that money for something else. I decide to be okay with disappointing the part of me that really wanted it.

Doing this isn’t a huge deal. But in the context of the ways I’m working on myself and trying to change, it sparks something in me.

What if I can do a different, but similar, kind of rewiring? What if I can teach my brain that letting go is euphoric, the most incredible win of all? What if I can program a rush of joy and pride to flow in reaction to putting things down? What if I can associate choosing to be okay with not getting what I want with the ultimate success? If the truth of the matter is what I want most of all is to be okay, it’s not even a lie.

So listen up, brain. We’re gonna keep being passionate and excitable. We’re gonna keep caring deeply and loving hard. We’re gonna stay hopeful against all odds. We’re gonna keep trying even in the face of the supposedly insurmountable. We’re gonna keep believing after failure. But we’re gonna start loving the disappointment. We’re not gonna fight only because we don’t accept defeat; we’re gonna respect it and we’re gonna respect ourself more for it. We are gonna learn that being able to call it quits is just as amazing as being able to carry on. We are going to celebrate the outlandish victory it will be to finally know what it’s like to say no.