Don’t Release the Symptom — Release the Strategy

Releasing Isn’t About the Symptom

When we talk about “releasing,” most of us aim for what we can see.

We say we want to release the weight.
The habit.
The screen time.
The sugar.
The drinking.
The scrolling.
The numbing.

But those aren’t the things we’re actually attached to.

They’re the outcomes of something deeper—something quieter—something that made sense at the time.

When we try to release a symptom without understanding what created it, we don’t become freer. We just move the energy somewhere else. The behavior changes shape. The strategy survives.

This reminds me of something my mom used to tell me about when I was very little.

When I didn’t want to eat the peas on my plate, I didn’t throw them or push them away. I just moved them around.

The peas stayed.

I wasn’t being defiant. I wasn’t being dramatic. I was doing what made sense to me in that moment. Maybe I didn’t like how they looked. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I wasn’t hungry. Maybe I just liked the way they rolled under my fingers.

Nothing changed—not because I was stuck, but because no one was asking why.

That’s often what we do with behaviors we don’t yet understand. We don’t integrate them. We don’t release them. We just rearrange them.

This isn’t a sentence.
It’s an invitation.

Instead of asking, “How do I get rid of this?”
we can ask, “What is this trying to give me?”

 

Why Numbing Behaviors Make Sense

No one numbs for no reason.

No one distracts without a need.

When the nervous system is overloaded, it looks for relief. And it will choose what is available, familiar, and effective—at least in the short term.

Food. Screens. Busyness. Alcohol. Isolation. Outrage.
These aren’t moral failures. They’re adaptive strategies.

They work—until they don’t.

And when we only focus on stopping the behavior without understanding what it was protecting us from, we end up exhausted. Trying harder. Controlling more. Feeling like we’re failing at something that was never meant to be solved with willpower alone.

Releasing isn’t about discipline.
It’s about honesty.

How One Strategy Quietly Creates Another

For a while, I told myself I was staying informed.

I stayed plugged into political news throughout the day because I cared. Because things mattered. Because surely—at some point—someone would say something that sounded like healing. Like direction. Like hope.

So I stayed tuned in.
Drip. Drip. Drip.

What I didn’t notice at first was how my body was responding.

The constant exposure wasn’t making me clearer or more effective. It was making me tense. Reactive. Heavy. I could feel it in my chest, my jaw, my breath.

And when my nervous system reached its limit, it did what nervous systems do.

It went looking for relief.

Not something meaningful.
Not something intentional.
Just something easy.

Sugar became that soft landing. A small comfort at the end of a long day. It didn’t require presence or preparation. It was already there.

This wasn’t a failure of discipline.
It was a predictable response to overload.

Alongside that came insulation. I stayed home more. Pulled back. Kept my world smaller because it felt safer that way—not because I don’t love people, but because everything felt sharper and more volatile.

So the pattern wasn’t:
I eat sugar → I gain weight.

The pattern was:
I stay plugged into fear and outrage → my body seeks relief → I soothe → I insulate → I lose energy → I pull back from the life I want to live.

The weight was never the issue.
It was the strategy.

When I looked honestly, I could see it wasn’t just about food or media or isolation. It was about where I was placing my hope.

I was putting hope in screens instead of in my own life.
In commentary instead of creation.
In watching instead of participating.

Seeing this didn’t make me ashamed.
It made me clear.

What We’re Actually Releasing

So what are we really releasing?

Not the weight.
Not the sugar.
Not the alcohol.
Not the screen time.

We’re releasing the beliefs and behaviors that made those things feel necessary.

We’re releasing:

• misplaced hope
• outsourced regulation
• false safety
• the belief that relief will come from watching instead of living

We’re releasing the idea that clarity arrives through constant input instead of conscious choice.

Releasing at this level isn’t subtraction.
It’s reclamation.

If this idea is landing but still feels a little abstract, I shared a short video where I talk through it using a simple childhood story—what it looks like to rearrange habits instead of understanding them, and how curiosity opens a different path. You can watch it here: [link]

What Fills the Space After Release

When you release something at the root, you don’t just remove a behavior—you create space.

And space, if left unattended, will always be filled by whatever is familiar.

This is where most approaches fall short. They tell us what to quit, but not what to invite.

For me, what wanted to come in wasn’t another rule. It was rhythm.

Movement.
Expression.
Creation.
Joy.

Music. A hand drum I made years ago, finally played instead of stored away.
Dance. Letting my body remember joy.
Voice. Speaking and singing without tightening.
Making things. Gardening. Crocheting. Touching soil. Watching something grow because I tended it.

These aren’t hobbies.
They’re regulators.

They restore energy instead of borrowing it from tomorrow.
They create balance where there was tension.
They offer satisfaction instead of soothing.

This is the alchemy we’re often missing.

We think we need to try harder.
What we actually need is to live more fully.

Releasing as a Way of Living

At some point, releasing stops being something you do and becomes a way you live.

You notice when your energy drifts toward coping instead of creating.
When you’re managing discomfort instead of listening to it.
When you’re watching life instead of participating in it.

And instead of judging yourself, you pause.

You ask better questions.

Not:
What’s wrong with me?
But:
What am I needing right now?

This is the difference between fixing and understanding.
Between discipline and devotion.
Between surviving and living.

None of us knows how much time we have. That uncertainty isn’t meant to frighten us—it’s meant to wake us up.

Not to rush.
Not to get it right.
But to be here.

Releasing isn’t about perfection or purity.
It’s about honesty.

It’s about noticing what no longer serves you and choosing something that does—even if that choice feels small or ordinary.

Because a life well lived isn’t measured by what you eliminated.

It’s measured by how fully you showed up.
How deeply you loved.
How present you were for your own becoming.

You don’t have to release everything today.
You don’t have to know the whole path.

You just have to stay awake to what brings you alive—and be willing to follow it.

You’re never late. Light works in cycles, not deadlines.