One moment I was happily walking on a treadmill in Seattle, Washington, and the next, I found myself standing beside it, stunned, as my mind grappled with the words I’d just heard. Words spoken as a sign of love to one also operated as a painful disappointment to me. I had essentially been put in my place with one statement. My breath knocked from my lungs, I left the gym to shower and prepare to leave. We were set to hit the road that morning, but suddenly, I was unsure how I’d get through the coming week.…

We had already spent one glorious week traveling across the country in my Jeep Wrangler—from Northeastern Ohio to Seattle, Washington—exceeding my expectations. I’d never done anything so spontaneous, so adventurous…so freeing. With my husband at my side and a camera roll full of new memories—driving the Jeep through the dirt and dust of the Badlands, gazing at the unfathomable art of Mount Rushmore, peering down from the heights of the Space Needle, breathing in the captivating scenery along the looping roads of Mt. Rainier while eating the best cherries we ever tasted, boarding a ferry (Jeep and all!) to drive around Forks and La Push beach with the top down (Twilight fans anyone?), and falling in love with sunflowers in Pike’s Market—I was on top of the world.

Until I wasn’t

Just like that, I was back in that old place again. That place where my emotions instantly ruled and even a minor disappointment was enough to wreck my day. It didn’t matter the intention of words or action, if I misunderstood or read into something. My emotions interpreted and I reacted. And this? This would spoil the trip thus far and ruin any chances of enjoying the rest of it. Despite my efforts over the summer to grow into new mindsets and break free from old patterns of thinking and behavior—tackling anxiety and discarding false beliefs—I knew that none of it was a match for the hurt I was feeling. The pain pressed down on my chest like a heavy stone, easing only in moments when I could distract myself. I waited for it to engulf me.

We loaded the car and with Seattle disappearing in my side mirror, I rested my head against the AC-cooled window and dozed off. Better asleep than feeling anything else, I thought.

The next moment, there was a flash in my vision, and as my eyes snapped open, the word “OPEN” appeared vividly in my mind. It’s bold and capitalized letters held a weightiness that was strangely not heavy, but important.

In that instant—everything changed.

Are you going to close yourself around this or are you going to let it go and ask God to deal with it? the thought followed immediately upon opening of my eyes and the word OPEN. Before I even had a chance to respond, a wave of relief washed over me, releasing the tension from every muscle that had been bracing for the weight of pain.

I had a choice.

Just hearing the question—without answering—felt freeing. The mere realization that I had a choice to let it go and enjoy the rest of my vacation, freed me. The hurt lifted and I no longer felt the urgency of impending pain. To this day I can’t explain it. It was like God and every single teaching of the past four years converged in a moment of epiphany and I experienced a profound breakthrough. I had heard people use the phrase “It just clicked” to explain gaining understanding, and now I completely understood.

We stopped in Denver on the way home. Between a tour of Empower Field at Mile High and a fancy dinner at Shanahan’s, I scheduled an appointment at a tattoo shop. Taking up the entirety of my left wrist, the artist inked a yellow sunflower with the word Open across the center in elegant script.

My reminder that we cannot experience freedom and joy if our hands are closed in tight fists, holding on to what we think we need or want. Living with hands open wide not only allows us to let go but also to receive. An open-handed life knows that the imperfect balance of give and take calls to us as the truest way to live.

The remainder of our trip was as glorious as the first half. I did not return home the same person who had left. The freedom did not fade, it deepened. And as I journaled my way through the next two years of living open-handed, I experienced new levels of freedom that grew from that initial breakthrough. All the effort and time spent waiting for change had led to something entirely unexpected…something very much worth the wait.

As if the experience hadn’t been enough, I happened upon a quote by Vironika Tugaleva confirming everything within a week of that trip: “The most profound personal growth does not happen while reading a book or meditating on a mat. It happens in the throes of conflict–when you are angry, afraid, and frustrated. It happens when you are doing the same old thing and you suddenly realize you have a choice.”

Open your hands. Trust the process. It will click.