Everyday Thoughts.

On Letting Go of an Old Love.


I spent my first year out of college working an office job. For 40 hours a week, I sat at a desk logging data, supervising employees, and making room reservations for guests. There were plenty of things I didn’t love about the job, but I was good at it. I did a good job finding solutions to complex problems. The students I supervised seemed to both respect my leadership, and enjoy working for me. The work was never-ending, but I enjoyed the challenge of trying to finish all of my tasks in one day.

A student who worked for me recently asked if I would submit a reference letter for her. In her email she said, “Thanks again, not only for the reference letter, but being a great administrator for me to look up to.”

I laughed when I read that line.

Me? A “great administrator” for someone to look up to? Me? The person with ADHD who always felt like the plates were spinning slightly out of control and struggled to maintain composure while trying to keep up?

If you had told me a few years ago that someone would call me a great administrator, I never would have believed you.

And yet, it doesn’t necessarily feel wrong. That surprises me.

It surprises me because I have never let myself think that I am anything other than a writer.

The first time a friend of mine died unexpectedly, I immediately wrote a poem about the confusion and sadness I felt. When I was in 6th grade, I wrote an entire book about what it’s like to have a sibling with Down syndrome in order to help myself understand what it really meant. As I grew older and began to have bigger questions about life and faith, I began blogging.

I can recall poems, essays, books, etc. that I have written at almost every stage of life. There has never been a time when I didn’t wrap my identity up in my skills as a writer.

But I am realizing that a writer is not who I am. It is something I do. And it’s risky business to make something you do define who you are.

The only problem is that I don’t particularly know who I am without writing. I’d like to do the work to figure that out now.

I’d like to let myself relax. To stop worrying about how often I write. To stop beating myself up for not writing enough. To let go of the fear that not writing enough inherently means I am not enough.

I’m ready to take a deep breath, thank myself for simply existing, and discover what it means to be Julianna, the human instead of Julianna, the writer.

In all aspects of life, I believe we are always allowed to leave. I believe we are always allowed to stop doing something, even if it’s something we thought we loved.

So this is me stopping. This is me saying I am no longer creating content for Make Wholeness Happen, even though I thought it was something I loved. I am giving up what I thought I was supposed to do and be, so that I can create more space for the new loves I’m discovering.

This is me not forcing an old love to last longer than it’s meant to.

One last thing . . .

Thank you. Thank you for the time you have spent reading my words, the ways you have interacted with them, and for sharing them with others. I am endlessly grateful for the support.

All my love,



  1. DaD

    Wow, proud of you, Thats what i call
    “Going out on top”
    Love You!

    19 . 03 . 2019
    • Julianna Zoch

      Thanks, dad. Love you!

      22 . 03 . 2019

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