If the Pain Was Deep, You Will Have to Let It Go Many Times

We like to think of “letting go” as a one-time achievement, like downing a raid boss and looting the chest. Cue the credits, cue the heroic music, cue the “Achievement Unlocked: Free at Last.” But the truth is far less cinematic. If the pain was deep - if it carved into your neural pathways with the precision of years—then you’re not letting it go once. You’re letting it go again and again. And sometimes again tomorrow before coffee.

Here’s why: your brain is a record-keeper. Neuroscience tells us that every experience you’ve had - especially the high-voltage ones like trauma - gets encoded in networks of neurons. Think of these networks like well-worn paths through a forest. Walk them enough, and they become highways. Add pain and fear to the mix, and your brain labels the road with flashing neon: IMPORTANT, REMEMBER THIS, NEVER FORGET.

From an evolutionary standpoint, this made sense. The saber-toothed tiger that almost ate you? Better to remember every detail, forever, than risk a repeat. But the modern “tigers” are messier: betrayal, neglect, loss, shame. And yet your brain tags them the same way: burn it in, keep it close, replay on loop.

Now here’s the good news: learning works the same way. Every time you practice a skill, your neurons fire together, and the connections between them strengthen. Trauma is just maladaptive learning - your nervous system over-learned fear. And healing is, in essence, re-training the brain. Which means every time you notice the old pain rising and consciously let it go, you are teaching your neurons a new dance.

But here’s the catch: those old pain-pathways don’t just vanish the first time you override them. They’re still in the system, waiting for the right trigger to light them up. Which is why you find yourself thinking, “Wait - I thought I forgave this. Why is it back?” Because forgiveness isn’t a delete key. It’s more like a daily patch update. You have to keep reapplying the code until the old bug stops crashing your system.

For me, the metaphor has always felt like respawning at the boss. You know the mechanics now - you’ve seen the fight - but you may have to run it a few dozen times before muscle memory takes over. And every time you release spirit, trek back to your body, and re-engage, you’re reinforcing the truth: I am not powerless. I can choose again. I can let go again.

The first time you do it, it feels like prying your fingers off a cliff’s edge. The fiftieth time, it feels like setting down a bag you no longer need to carry. Same choice, same pain - but less weight each round.

So if the pain was deep, expect to let it go many times. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means your brain is literally rewiring. It means you’re doing the work. It means you’re building a new path through the forest, one step, one choice, one letting-go at a time.

And someday - without even noticing - you’ll take the new road automatically. The old one will still exist, but it’ll be overgrown, neglected, unused. And the thing that once screamed for your attention will just be another forgotten ruin on the map of your life.

That’s not failure. That’s neuroplasticity. That’s healing. That’s victory.