I’m staring at the screen, a cold sweat beading on my forehead, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, caught in the agonizing dilemma of fight or flight. Instead, my mind freezes, while my trembling hand hesitates—each millimeter closer to the screen feels like stepping toward a cliff’s edge. Before me lurks my worst nightmare and my sworn enemy, an ever-present shadow in my life that has stolen my sleep ever since I first learned to type: that little, merciless, unforgiving “delete” button. 

It taunts me, daring me to make the final cut, a merciless executioner of my digital life—whispering that once something is gone, it’s gone forever.

...

And for most of my life, I agreed with it.

...

The Fear of Letting Go

Hovering over that button and confronting this fear feels like a sacrificial ritual—offering up my most cherished possessions in the hope of prosperity, each time demanding a heavier toll.

Every time I approach the button, it’s as if I’m standing on a battlefield, frozen by fear, caught between the desperate urge to hold on and the crushing need to let go. Pressing delete isn’t just erasing files, photos, or emails to me; it feels like setting fire to my most treasured belongings, watching them turn to ash in slow motion. This might sound exaggerated but perfectly captures the dread I feel when facing those delete buttons.

The Weight of the Past

To me, pressing delete feels like tearing pages from the diary of my life—pages filled with moments, lessons, and pieces of my very soul—pages I can never rewrite, and now, never again, get to revisit. I’m only left to wonder what part of myself got left behind.

Bulk deletion is even more terrifying. For some, it’s a fresh start; for me, it feels like wiping out my entire carefully curated world in one single sweep. Starting anew seems like redoing everything from scratch, compounded by the heavy burden of losing my past and the endless time spent agonizing over the decision. I’d rather live surrounded by piles of untouched items than face the terrifying emptiness that follows deletion.

You could say clinging to the past—even at the expense of future opportunities—is my specialty.

I know my behavior is irrational, but in my twisted mind, I can’t find a way to rationalize pressing that delete button either. Every trace of my past feels equally—if not more—important than my present or future, because it reflects who I was, what I did, and what I valued at the time.

I suppose I see everything I’ve encountered—or even things I’ve barely noticed—as extensions of myself. Thus, pressing that button feels like erasing my essence—every file, email, and photo a thread in the mosaic of my story. Deleting them dismantles me, piece by piece.

I know this isn’t true, but I can’t shake the feeling every time I approach that button. My mind traps me in scarcity, convinced that these moments are once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, and discarding them means losing the possibility of reclaiming them forever.

I struggle to believe that good things will come up in my life again—perhaps not exactly the same, but in new forms. There’s even the possibility that something better might come my way if only I could declutter and make space for it.

I know letting go is necessary, but, most of the time, my fear of loss weighs heavier than the hope of gain. But it’s also true that letting go of what doesn’t matter is a good thing. After all, how can one truly appreciate the beautiful sight before them if weighed down by an overwhelming load of belongings?

A New Approach: Growth Through Letting Go

So this year, I’m determined to face my nightmare head-on—to transform the delete button from a terrifying executioner into an unexpected ally—turning this nightmare ritual of loss into a tribute to my self.

I aim to grow comfortable with letting go of parts of my past and to make space for what lies ahead. Letting go should not be a betrayal of who I was—but an act of courage for who I might become. I’ll make peace with doors that cannot reopen—and to embrace the new free space with a smile, rather than frowning over what’s lost.

I will reframe the delete button: no longer a symbol of loss, but a tool for reprioritization and reinvention. Each erasure is a chance to shed the unnecessary, to grow lighter, to evolve.

If that dreaded delete button demands a sacrifice, then so be it—because a calmer mind and a more fulfilling life are worth surrendering my past self for. I’ll gladly trade relics of my past for the currency of clarity and purpose

True growth isn’t measured in what we clutch, but in what we dare to release.

From now on, I choose to fix my gaze on the horizon ahead—not the rearview mirror of the past—as I step forward into the future. No longer with clenched fists like before, but with open palms, ready to embrace whatever lies ahead. It’s time to lighten my load, breathe in the fresh air, and truly appreciate the beautiful horizon that awaits me.

This week's exercise from a handbook for new Stoics focuses on comforting ourselves by achieving equanimity through a shift in perspective regarding our own troubles.

At the core of this practice is the distinction between sympathy and empathy. The Stoics put forward the idea that we should lean more towards cultivating sympathy rather than empathy.

Empathy, sharing another person's feelings at an emotional level, often leads to overwhelming responses. Empathy is stronger towards known or visible people but weakens with anonymity. In contrast, sympathy, rooted in reason, acknowledges others’ struggles without getting lost in similar emotions. Sympathy involves caring for and feeling sorry for others’ grief or misfortune. We can sympathize with strangers or hurtful situations because we can relate to the distress they cause.

Epictetus notes that typically, we tend to self-empathize while we sympathize with others. Therefore, we must learn to step back from our instinctive emotional responses, understanding that difficult times are universal, not unique to us.

By cultivating sympathy, we remind ourselves that we are not alone in our hardships and that adversity is a shared aspect of the human experience. This shift in perspective fosters equanimity, enabling us to face life's challenges with resilience. 

The Exercise

This week’s exercise prompts you to write about a problem you encountered during the day or a worry you have for tomorrow. Alternatively, if the day was positive and you’re not concerned about tomorrow, reflect on past issues.

Express your feelings about the current issue and then offer yourself advice. Approach the issue from an outsider’s perspective by using second-person pronouns or your name to create a sense of distance that helps you contextualize your emotions.

This practice helps reduce the emotional pain of hurtful situations, allowing for a clearer perspective. It also fosters self-compassion over the magnifying internal turmoil, leading to a more balanced emotional state.

My Entries

I know it seems like nothing's changed and there's no progress being made, but you've put in the work, so I want you to trust the compound effect of your best effort. You are getting stronger whether you realize it or not.

You have tried all you can. You put hours of work into conceptualizing the logo. You know what kind of concept you and the vibe you are looking for. You know how to evoke emotions and feelings. You've done enough, and the results you've got are more than enough. Trust your judgment, trust your skills, and always trust that whatever happens next, you did your best.

This week’s exercise feels natural to me since I’ve been writing in the second person after learning about Stoicism and its practices four years ago. It’s a simple exercise that I’ve been doing regularly.

I can genuinely say that writing in the second person helps me take a broader view of the situation, remove your emotions, and objectively see it. This perspective provides a better understanding of the grand scheme of things.

It’s comforting to realize that your feelings and strong emotions will fade, but the situations and your perspectives will remain. This approach helps you gain more insights than merely working through your emotions.

I highly recommend this practice because I’ve been using it for years and it works.

This week, the exercise focuses on the concept of aversion, which can be seen as a type of desire, as in the desire to avoid misfortune. People have very different reactions to similar misfortunes, and the reason is that some people are better at redirecting the aversion away from things that they dislike but are not in our power, and transferring it to things that we can completely control. 

The true challenge is taking actions on something we can be guaranteed to achieve, instead of desiring something that is outside our control.

What is in your power, and what you then should desire, is putting forward the best possible case for the desired outcome based on your best effort to do your job well. If you do the best job you can at every moment, you've already succeeded… in your own right.

Even in situations where complete control is absent, you still possess the ability to influence the final outcome. There's always a pathway to enhancing your circumstances or increasing your chances of success. By focusing on what you can control, you're not only preparing for the unforeseen but also aligning your actions with the natural order, paving the way to potential success regardless of the outcome.

Ultimately, this week's exercise is about transforming aversion into something manageable—your thoughts and actions. It's about determining what proactive steps we can take to influence outcomes in our favor, before those aversions materialize. I find this concept truly admirable

The Exercise

The essence of this week’s exercise is to identify your aversions and then creating strategies to manage them effectively.

The process begins by making a shortlist of actions you can take to steer clear of these aversions. This isn't just about avoidance but finding constructive ways to cope and prepare when faced with them.

The next step involves practicing one action from your list each day. 

My Shortlist—Ways I Could Transfer Aversion from External Things Not in My Control to Things I Can Completely Control:

Visualize Myself: Prepare the night before the event by visualizing the situation.

Immediate Action: Think of one thing I can do right now regarding what is bothering me.

Worst-Case Scenario: Write down what's the worst that could happen, then come up with steps to address it.

Skill Inventory: List 5 skills I have that can improve my chance of success.

Improving Work Quality: Identify 4 actions I can take to enhance the quality of my work.

Outcomes Analysis: Consider 3 possible outcomes and the likelihood of each happening.

Personal Reward: Develop 2 ideas for rewarding myself if the worst doesn't happen.

Positive Affirmation: Create 1 affirmation or encouragement regarding the current situation.

Currently, my list of actions is quite short. However, I plan to revisit and update it periodically as I gain more insight into my aversions and the methods that work best for me. This ongoing refinement ensures that I'm equipped with effective tools to handle aversions as they arise.