How often do we respond to someone else’s chaos as if it were our own?
When did defending ourselves become a reflex instead of a choice?
How many battlefields do we step onto that don’t actually require our presence, and how often do we justify decisions no one asked us to fight for?
How frequently do we find our time, focus, and emotions hijacked by what others think or do? And, what might happen if we simply let some things pass, unbothered and unclaimed?
These were the questions that were weighing heavily as I recently devoured Mel Robbins’ Let Them in the way one devours something you didn’t know you were starving for - quickly, hungrily, reverently. Page after page, it felt less like reading and more like remembering something my entire self already knew and was fully and completely ready to reclaim.
Let me start with a confession…
It took me a very long while to come around to Mel. Her delivery felt, to me, too over-the-top matter-of-fact, a little crass, and a whole lot of abrasive - more sledgehammer than silk. But slowly, steadily, she won me over. Episode by episode, truth by truth. Now? I’m a devout listener who rarely misses a podcast drop. And this book sealed it.
The theory is deceptively simple: Let Them. Let Me.
Let them have their opinions. Let them misunderstand. Let them project, pontificate, posture, and perform. Let them be disappointed. Let them choose differently. Let them judge your timing, question your motives, underestimate your strength, and tell stories about you that have nothing to do with the truth.
Let them, let them, let them.
And then (this is the holy hinge), let me decide how I respond. Let me preserve my integrity. Let me choose clarity over chaos, self-trust over second-guessing, calm over combat. Let me be responsible for myself and the way I move through the world.
Revolutionary for the mind. Restorative for the spirit.
One particular line in the book stopped me cold:
“Silence can’t be misquoted.”
Say it again. Slower. Softer. Stronger.
In a world addicted to reaction and riddled with rage-bait, silence is not weakness - it’s wisdom. We do not need to attend every argument we are invited to. We do not need to explain, defend, or dismantle every narrative written about us.
This landed deeply because this past year has been a particularly challenging one. I saw myself, with startling clarity, somehow fully playing into other people’s agendas; martyrdom masquerading as morality, drama disguised as depth, gossip costumed as care and concern, narcissism prettied up with victimhood.
Constantly defending. Continually explaining. Quietly questioning my own decisions because of other people’s opinions.
I once again recognized how quickly we/me can overreact in response to other people’s behaviour - firing off defensive texts, crafting long-winded explanations no one asked for, replaying conversations on a relentless loop, doom-scrolling for validation, oversharing to justify choices, people-pleasing to keep the peace, spiralling into self-doubt, performing politeness when honesty would suffice, and mistaking urgency for importance.
I wholly noticed the ways we abandon our intuition, betray our boundaries, and hand over our power in the name of being understood when calm, clarity, and restraint would serve far better.
This is not an empowered way to live.
When we live like that, our composure is punctured. Our self-agency is slowly siphoned away. We become reactive instead of rooted, shaken rather than sure.
Let Them was a bracing reminder that control is an illusion when it comes to others, but choice is always accessible within ourselves. We cannot manage other people’s moods, motives, or messes. But we can master our reactions. We can mind our energy. We can move with intention instead of interruption.
This approach feels especially critical during the holiday season, when emotions run close to the surface and expectations run high. Grief shows up where loved ones are missing. Financial strain hums beneath forced festivity. Old family dynamics resurface around familiar tables. Schedules are stretched, roles are revisited, and the pressure to be joyful can feel excruciatingly exhausting. In these moments, choosing restraint over reaction is an act of kindness - to ourselves and to others. This is the season to soften, to assume less, to respond with intention, and to remember that gentleness is not passive; it is profoundly powerful.
So here I am, practicing pause. Choosing calm. Unclenching with ease. Surrendering strongly.
Letting them.
And, finally, fully and freely letting ME.