By Annika Savage

There’s a quiet skill that can change the way we experience life’s hardest moments – and even its sweetest ones. It’s not about denying how we feel or pretending everything is fine. It’s about learning to hold it lightly.

We’re taught to grip tightly. To figure things out, fix what’s wrong, or cling to what’s good in case it slips away. But emotions, situations, and stories about ourselves aren’t meant to be held with clenched fists. They ask for space. Breath. Open hands.

Imagine a butterfly. If you try to catch it in a fist, you’ll crush its wings. The harder you try to hold on or control where it goes, the less it does what you want. But if you open your palm and stay still, it might choose to land for a moment. That’s how emotions work too. They come and go when we stop chasing or resisting them.

Holding something lightly doesn’t mean it’s unimportant. It means we stop trying to control it with every part of us. It means we honour what’s here – grief, uncertainty, anxiety, joy – without letting it consume us.

This is where the wisdom of mindfulness and DBT comes in. In DBT, we talk about “radical acceptance”; not as resignation, but as a softening. A way to say, this is what’s here right now, and I don’t have to fight it to survive it. In mindfulness, we observe without judgment. We notice a feeling rising… and falling. A thought appearing… and passing. Like clouds moving through the sky.

When we hold our experiences lightly, we remember that we are not the feeling. We are the space that can hold the feeling. We’re not the storm – we’re the sky it moves through.

This doesn’t mean detaching or numbing. It means allowing. It means loosening our grip just enough to let our breath come back.

A few ways to practice holding it lightly:

Reflection prompts:

We don’t have to let go completely to find relief. We just have to stop squeezing. To trust that we can carry hard things without being crushed by them.

You are allowed to feel everything, and to still be okay. You can honour what’s real without letting it define you. Let the moment land gently – like a butterfly. It may not stay long, but its presence still matters.

With gentle strength,
Annika