Two Letters That Changed Everything: From Letting Go to Letting Be - Part 2

October 29, 2025—In my previous post, I wrote about how I finally learned to set down all that I carried while working with street-involved youth on Capitol Hill in Seattle. It was a long journey—from taking on the burdens of vulnerable young people in unstable, high-risk situations, to realizing how deeply that weight was affecting my health, to understanding that the healing lay not in letting it go but in letting it be.

Today, I want to explore that a little more deeply:

How do we let it be?
What does that mean?
And why is it more effective—more humane, even—than trying to “let it go”?

The Wounded Healer in Us

As I shared before, many of us who become adolescent service providers are walking paths that were laid down long ago in our own childhoods. We show up for kids the way we once needed someone to show up for us. Many of us are wounded healers.

There is nothing more powerful for a struggling teenager than to be met by an adult who truly understands what it means to navigate those turbulent years without a compass, without a rudder, without a map. Our own lived experiences carry wisdom—deep, embodied wisdom—but if we haven’t integrated or metabolized those experiences, if we’re not aware of them, they can become problematic.

Our empathy for others can trigger our own exiled parts, and soon our protector parts rush in—problem-solvers, rescuers, saviors—driven by fear and the need to fix. We begin to see deficits that need filling, rather than people with their own wholeness and agency. This is how we start carrying our kids. And it’s heavy. So very heavy.

The Weight of Empathy

When someone tells us to let it go, the protector parts within us often resist. They refuse to release the burden because to “let go” can feel like turning our backs on the wounded parts of ourselves—our exiles. Those parts will have none of that.

To “let go” feels like abandonment, like closing the door on healing.

And yet our protector parts grow weary. They are exhausted. They long to set down what they’ve carried for so long.

We know from research that one of the most reliable pathways to burnout and compassion fatigue is the feeling of helplessness—when we see suffering and believe we have no power to change it. Our protector parts can’t fix other people, no matter how desperately they try. They keep trying until our bodies ache, our backs and shoulders tighten, our hearts strain, and cortisol runs rampant through our systems. Chronic inflammation becomes our companion.

I once believed I suffered from “compassion fatigue.” But I’ve come to see that it isn’t compassion that fatigues us—it’s empathy fatigue. Empathy activates the pain centers in our brain. When we sit with others in their suffering, purely through empathy, we are effectively living in a state of chronic pain. And yet—we can’t simply let it go.

The Practice of Letting It Be

So, we let it be.

To let something be is to give others permission to have their own lives, their own experiences. It is to trust in their journey as Shiftless Wanderers—finding their way, as we once found ours.

Letting it be means remembering that we, too, have learned to listen to ourselves, to follow intuition, to advocate for ourselves, to claim our agency and voice. To carry someone else’s burden is to rob them, however unintentionally, of that sacred opportunity to find their own strength and wisdom.

When we let it be, we turn toward our burdened parts with compassion, courage, and calm. We reassure them that they are not alone. We witness our own suffering from a place of presence, allowing healing to unfold rather than forcing it.

From that grounded place, our parts can finally release what they’ve held. The exiles—those tender, hidden aspects of us—give permission to lay the burdens down, to release them into the fire, the earth, the deep waters, the ether.

And when we’ve experienced that release for ourselves, we know—deep in our bones—that the kids we serve can do the same. We begin to see their Self Energy, hold courage for them and with them, believe in them, and facilitate their belief in themselves. This is a strengths-seeking way to be with someone rather than only recognizing the risk factors.

The how-to’s of letting it be

Identify your places of wounding, trauma, and pain.
Take time to journal and reflect. Get curious about why this person or situation feels so triggering. In Internal Family Systems, this is called the you-turn. Here’s a wonderful step-by-step map for how to do the you-turn.

Turn your attention to the trigger.
Once you’ve identified these parts and begun the work of coming into relationship with your own pain, gently turn your attention back to the person or situation that feels heavy or anxiety-inducing. Ask your parts to give you some space. For example, if you feel an urge to fix or problem-solve, let that part of you know it’s okay not to know how to fix this right now. Reassure your parts that the way to “solve the problem” is simply to be with the person or situation—with curiosity, and as much calm as possible.

Remind your parts that you’re not letting anything go.
Our dear exile and protector parts work tirelessly to move us toward healing—while also resisting it. Exiles know that letting something go can feel like closing the door on healing. The wisdom in holding burdens is that our pain must be witnessed before it can be released.

But when we’re at work—trying to be an effective and caring therapist, teacher, or adolescent service provider—we need to stay present for that work. We can let our parts know that we’re not abandoning them; we’re simply setting the empathic burden down for now, to return to later with time, grounding, and maybe some support. You might imagine placing it on a shelf, in a treasure box, on the car seat beside you, or tucked in a cupboard. Rest assured—it will still be there when it’s time to return to it.

Widen your perspective.
Our protector parts have limited toolkits. Their jobs are to serve us, not necessarily those we serve (that’s a topic for another blog post!). A part that rescues only sees someone who needs rescuing. A part that problem-solves only sees something broken—no benefits, no opportunities, just a problem to fix.

When we slow down and ask those parts to give us space, we invite in more of what IFS calls the 8 C’s: Curiosity, Creativity, Connectedness, and Courage, among others. These qualities help us relate to others—and to ourselves—from a place of compassion rather than reactivity.

Closing Reflection

To let it be is not passive. It’s an act of faith. It’s the quiet trust that healing and growth don’t need our control—only our presence. When we stop trying to fix or carry others and instead walk beside them, we model what it means to live with openness, courage, and humility. We believe in ourselves and we believe in the abilities and inherent wisdom of the kids we work with.

We stop being saviors and become witnesses. And in that space of witnessing—of letting it be—real transformation begins.

Photo by: khwanchai