Some things are not okay. The comment that stung. The decision that sidelined you. The diagnosis that flipped your life. The abuse you endured. And so much more.

You don’t have to bless any of it. What sets you free is moving from “I’m miserable because of this” to “It happened, and I can still be okay.”

Where we get stuck is assuming acceptance equals approval. If that’s true, of course you can’t move. Your brain and body know better than to force “it’s okay” onto what wasn’t okay. “It happened and I’m okay” offers a different story. Anger gets to be acknowledged. Hurt gets a seat at the table. Then—slowly—you choose what helps you heal.

Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Many of us carry anger, hurt, and resentment over old wounds while the other person may not even know. Letting go doesn’t mean it was okay. It means, “I choose not to keep letting this hurt me.”

Keeping your hand on the hot stove of the story—replaying the words, the looks, the what-ifs—burns you, not them. You don’t have to like what happened to move your hand. But until you do, it’s hard to think about anything else.

When you catch yourself getting stuck in the story, ask: “Is holding onto this helping me—or hurting me?”

Here are practical tools to help your nervous system let go:

• The Hot Stove Reset. When you notice the loop, whisper “stove,” exhale slowly, look around the room, and feel your feet pressing against the floor for one minute. Repeat as needed. Come back to the present.

• The Unsent Letter. Say everything you wish you could say—on paper or a voice note. No editing. Then shred or delete. Your body gets a pressure valve, and you’ll feel better.

• The Story Edit. Write what happened and what you think and feel about it. Underline only the bare facts—the pieces a courtroom jury or a group of scientists would agree on. That’s usually only a few sentences on a whole page. Keep the facts; let go of the extra layers of meaning you added.

Underneath all of this is a crucial distinction: resignation vs. peace.

Resignation says, “This is just how it is,” and keeps the resentment alive—still pushing feelings away.

Peace is actually letting go. Peace says, “It happened. I choose not to let it hurt me anymore.”

Resignation feels heavy. Peace feels light.

Protect your peace with boundaries that match your needs. You’re allowed to say, “I’m not talking about that today.” You’re allowed to end a spiraling conversation. You’re allowed to reschedule, to rest, to not explain. Just remember: pushing a person, thought, or feeling away isn’t a long-term solution. If you still feel a knot when you think about it, you’re not at peace yet—you’re on pause. That’s okay. Come back and finish the work when you’re more resourced. Just don’t leave it there forever.

So no, it wasn’t okay. It may never be. But you? You can be more than okay. Grounded. Resourced. Free to enjoy what’s here now. Say it with me: "It happened. I didn’t like it. I don’t have to. And I’m okay—because I’m choosing peace, not poison, and I’m taking my hand off the hot stove, because I have better things to do."

And if you try these practices and you’re still struggling to let go, that doesn’t mean you’re broken. It simply means you might need more support to unwind and heal what happened. That’s the work I do with women every day—and you might be surprised how quickly a long-held hurt can loosen with the right guidance. If something has been hurting you for a while, reach out. You don’t have to carry it alone.

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