Hold on Loosely, But Don't Let Go
Lessons from a One-Hit Wonder on Money, Relationships, and More
“Your Dad and I broke up after high school,” Mom tells me.
I can’t remember exactly when this memory takes place, but I’m willing to bet we were in the car. My mom always saved her deepest wisdom for long drives. And when I was a kid, we were always driving somewhere—between school and gymnastics, home and practice, errand and errand.
I spent a good chunk of my childhood in the passenger seat, absorbing life lessons between backroads and stoplights.
“Anyway,” she continues, “we were so young when we met. We wanted to see what else was out there. But five years later, at our high school reunion, we started dating again—and we’ve been together ever since.”
She pauses just long enough to punch the accelerator on yet another windy Massachusetts backroad.
“That’s how it always is in life,” she says, half-singing now, “That’s why you gotta hold on loosely… but don’t let go!”
I laugh. It's just like my mom to teach a valuable life lesson with a 38 Special song.
The Life Philosophy I Didn't Know I Was Adopting
That lyric has stuck with me for decades, playing in the background of my life like a slightly outdated but surprisingly profound soundtrack. At the time, Mom probably thought she was just making a joke—or at best, offering her usual backseat life advice. But I took those words literally. Like, very literally.
It became my personal philosophy. If you love something and it’s meant for you, you can let it go. And if it’s truly yours, it’ll come back.
In college, I leaned on this belief when my boyfriend and I were headed off to different continents for our junior year abroad. He decided to go to Argentina, I went to Spain.
“Let’s take a break,” I said, even though it broke my heart to say it. “If we’re meant to be, we’ll get back together senior year.”
He met someone in Argentina.
Spoiler alert: we weren’t meant to be.
In my late twenties, the same belief resurfaced after another long-term relationship ended. I thought, maybe we just need some time apart to realize what we really want. But as our connection faded, it became clear that we didn’t need time—he just wasn’t my person.
And now, in my thirties, this philosophy shows up in the weird world of online dating. I swipe, I chat, I go on walks and mediocre coffee dates. I don’t try to force it.
If it’s not easy or fun, I move on. I’m not picky so much as I’m no longer interested in dragging someone along that doesn’t want to be there. I trust myself to know who is and isn’t meant for me.
Then There’s Money
Recently, this philosophy also showed up in another important area of my life: my relationship with money.
I’ve been trying to raise the energetic minimum of my bank account. If you’re not familiar (most people aren’t), your energetic minimum is the lowest amount of money you feel comfortable keeping in your account before you start panicking or unconsciously spending it.
For most of my adult life, my energetic minimum was… let’s just say below sea level.
I could live with $0. I could live with -$200. It wasn’t comfortable to always be in the negative, but it was familiar.
Then came the inevitable day when all my credit cards maxed out and I hit the kind of financial rock bottom that makes you reevaluate your life choices while you bargain shop in the vegetable section of the grocery store.
So, I started learning about the energetics of money. I followed money coaches, read the books, listened to the podcasts.
One tip that stuck with me: raise your energetic minimum slowly. Start by keeping $10 in your account and letting yourself get used to it. Then $50. Then $100. And so on.
The idea is to train your nervous system to feel safe holding more. To stop acting like money literally burns a hole in your wallet the second it shows up.
And The Song Came Back
Things were going well. I was keeping $100 in my account, practicing restraint, feeling like a financial grown-up.
But then I noticed myself getting weirdly tense every time I hit my new minimum. I would stop spending completely—no groceries, no coffee, no tiny splurge at the used bookstore. My hands clenched around that $100 like it was the last $100 I would ever see.
And then, like a cosmic joke, that song popped back into my head.
“Hold on loosely, but don’t let go.”
Oh. Right.
The point wasn’t to never spend again. The point was to hold onto the energy of that money. To trust that when I spent money in alignment with my values and needs, money would show up when I needed it.
Money is kind of like a cat. The more you chase it, the more it wants to get away from you. But if you lay down in the grass and simply enjoy the sun on your face, the cat will come to you.
When I loosened my grip on that $100, something shifted. I felt like I was finally ready to let life come to me.
Where Else This Shows Up
What’s crazy is, this philosophy isn’t just about relationships or money. It’s kind of everywhere.
In creativity, you can’t force inspiration. You show up, you keep an open mind, and you trust that the ideas will flow in—usually when you least expect it.
In business, you show up even when it feels like nothing is happening. You create, you connect, you send the newsletter. But if you obsess over the results, you block the flow. Clients often show up after you stop worrying. Engagement happens when you’re not obsessed with likes and views.
Even in healing, it’s true. You can’t muscle your way through emotional growth. Sometimes the most transformative thing you can do is release the timeline, drop the pressure, and give yourself permission to just be a work in progress.
Final Thoughts (and Cats)
So yeah. When I think back to my mom singing off-key in the car, unknowingly handing me the secret to life between errands and orthodontist appointments, I have to laugh.
Because somehow that one-hit-wonder lyric became the thing I built my life around.
“Hold on loosely, but don’t let go.”
I’ve applied it everywhere— love, money, creativity, and every cat I've ever met.
Turns out, the secret is this:
If it’s meant for you, you can let it go. You can hold it lightly. You can let it breathe.
And if it doesn’t come back? Maybe it was never meant to stay.
With love and light,
This Week’s Journaling Prompt-
Where in your life are you gripping too tightly—love, money, creativity, control—and what might shift if you held it more loosely?
Can you think of a time when something did come back once you let go? What did that teach you about trust?
And don’t forget to share with someone who could stand to loosen their grip on life.
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