Fundamentally whole

Hi friends -

Those of you who have read Mondays with Motivo for a while know that my writing often gets pretty vulnerable.

I mean, I’m a therapist - I can’t help myself. I’m literally incapable of small talk.

I’ve spoken a bit about my divorce here, and many of you have responded to tell me about your own stories. You’ve shared your experiences of the sunset of a relationship, the grief of losing someone, and the journey to reimagine.

Each email I receive is a gift to me - and a reminder that, as humans, there is so much more that connects us than divides us. We all have our protective parts, our deep wounds, our learned patterns.

Leaving my 17-year marriage felt like such a big step. It felt like I was choosing myself and moving on to something scary but exciting.

However, what I didn’t anticipate is that the wounds that led to the end of my relationship wouldn’t just close when the papers were signed.

Endings — especially endings of deep attachments — have a way of shining a bright light on old questions of worth, lovability, and wholeness.

For much of this year, I’ve been in wrestling with those questions. Where has my worth been coming from? What would life look if I stop trying to prove myself? How will I know what my inner knowing sounds like?

As a therapist, my instinct is to jump into doing. Read the books. Journal the insights. Go to therapy. Make meaning out of the mess.

And while those things have helped (a lot), I’m learning that the deepest healing sometimes doesn’t come from working harder on yourself — it comes from relaxing into yourself.

This is terrifying for someone like me.

Relaxing means I don’t have a plan. It means I have to sit in the not-knowing, to let the ache exist without trying to rush it toward resolution.

I read a quote from Cory Muscara recently has been like a little lantern:

When I read that, I felt both resistance and relief.

Resistance, because my whole life has been about becoming — better, wiser, stronger, more loving, more healed.

Relief, because if this is true, then maybe I can lay down my tools every now and then and just be present with myself.

Wholeness, I’m realizing, isn’t a future milestone. It’s not something you arrive at once you’ve processed enough or learned enough. It’s here, even on the days when I feel undone.

It’s in the simple acts — making tea, walking Wrigley, chopping vegetables, listening to a friend — the ordinary moments that prove I am living, breathing, and okay, even when the future is uncertain.

And there’s something strangely liberating about letting go of the constant project of self-improvement. Not abandoning growth entirely, but shifting from “fixing” to “allowing.”

Allowing myself to be in progress without perfection. Allowing the questions to remain unanswered. Allowing myself to feel joy.

Some days, I still try to outrun the discomfort. I still grasp for the next insight or the next “a-ha” moment.

But other days, I catch a glimpse of what it feels like to simply rest in myself — and it feels like exhaling after holding my breath for far too long.

I’m curious, in your own seasons of change or loss, have you felt the pull to “fix” yourself as quickly as possible?

Or have you had moments when you’ve been able to rest in your own enoughness? I’d love to hear your thoughts, if you want to share them.

Warmly,

Rachel

Rachel Ledbetter, LMFT
CEO/Co-Founder, Motivo
rachel@motivohealth.com