“To let go does not mean to get rid of. To let go means to let be.” ~Jack Kornfield
I must admit right off the bat—as a serial entrepreneur, I’m a risk-taker. Throughout my twenties and thirties, I jumped at opportunities without always vetting the characters involved or asking what six months down the road might look like. I trusted, I leapt, I learned.
At twenty-three, I launched my first real business with another partner—an upscale pet resort. We had climate-controlled suites, a beautiful play yard, and classical music playing softly in the background. An elaborate four-tier fountain greeted guests in the lobby, where you could also view the handcrafted “Catio” patio built by my father himself.
Within a few months, it was already turning a profit. On the surface, it seemed like a dream come true. But something felt off.
My partner, M, was in charge of the books. At first, I brushed off the small red flags. A check deposited here, a discrepancy there. But one night after the last guest was picked up, I went into the office, pulled the books, and began a deeper investigation. What I found left me cold.
There were large withdrawals I hadn’t approved. Checks made out directly to M. While we had agreed on how much we would each take from the business, these amounts far exceeded our arrangement—and were happening far more often.
I was sick with disbelief. I confronted her. She cried. She apologized. But she didn’t offer an explanation, only tears. I kept asking, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
The betrayal grew stranger. Tensions rose. Communication broke down. One day, I pulled into the parking lot, and someone was there—recording video because they believed I would become physically violent (huh? Me? I don’t even hurt bugs!) as they told me I was no longer allowed on the property.
Wait, what?
I was the president of the company. I had put up all the money. It was my vision. My energy. My debt.
But here’s the thing—I had trusted M to handle the legal paperwork. And while I believed I was an equal owner, I never verified that the documents said so. I wasn’t listed as a shareholder. I had no legal stake.
I was the president of a company I didn’t actually own.
At thirty-three, I didn’t know what to look for. I had no real business background—just ambition, trust, and big dreams. And now I was being lied to, stolen from, and kicked out of the very place I built.
The desire for revenge was overwhelming. I wanted to scream. I wanted to sue. I wanted justice.
I met with attorneys. I weighed the options. And ultimately, I had to accept one of the hardest truths of my life: pursuing justice might bury me further. The legal costs, the emotional toll—it wasn’t a fight I could afford to win. So I let it be.
This was the beginning of a long line of “Let it Be’s” with many entrepreneurial hardships, missteps, and mistrusts. It was just the first in what would become an incredibly wild journey over the next twenty years. I was wronged again and again—faced the pain of greed, anger, narcissism, and outright insanity—and I let it ALL be.
And believe me, the devil on my shoulder had a full revenge script ready—dramatic, petty, borderline illegal. But I never acted on it.
Every. Single. Time.
And the truth of it all is taking the higher road isn’t easy. Letting things be is HARD.
But it’s not weakness. It’s wisdom.
Because here’s what I’ve learned: fighting fire with more fire only leaves you burned. And the more oxygen you give a flame, the bigger it gets. The longer you cling to betrayal, the more time you spend stuck in it.
And time? It’s precious.
Instead of plotting revenge, I began to rebuild. First, I crumbled. Then, brick by brick, I picked myself back up. I changed direction. I started over.
Here’s what helped me through:
- I got quiet. No grand social media posts, no smear campaigns. Just space. Silence gave me clarity.
- I got help. From mentors, therapists, friends who spoke truth when I couldn’t see it.
- I wrote everything down. The facts. The feelings. The fear. Putting it on paper helped me process it.
- I took responsibility. Not for what M did, but for what I missed. I studied, I learned, I vowed never to be that uninformed again.
Because I chose to let it be, I didn’t carry the weight of revenge, I moved forward with grace, and my integrity stayed intact.
Yes, I lost money. I lost years. I lost a dream.
But I didn’t lose myself.
Letting it be doesn’t mean pretending it didn’t happen. It means choosing not to carry it forward. It means making peace with what you can’t control—and putting your energy where it counts.
This was the first of a long line of experiences I’ve had throughout my entrepreneurial journey. After this event, I faced even more heartbreak and challenges. But every time, I have chosen to let it be.
Sir Paul McCartney once shared how his mother visited him in a dream and told him the simple words: “Let it be.”
Well, Mother Mary—you were right.
This is the way to do it.
So the next time you’re standing face-to-face with betrayal, I hope—for your sake—you let it be.
We only get so much time here. Let’s not waste it on battles that don’t build us.
