To flow forward or to stay rooted?
- Alawiyyah

- Oct 4
- 3 min read
Updated: Oct 11
Is it harder to move on or to stay in place? This question has lingered in my mind ever since I made the decision to return to Singapore from Toulouse. Having experienced both, I can say with certainty that neither path is easier than the other. They are equally profound, equally demanding, just in different ways.
The fear of being left behind
Remaining in place can evoke a quiet, unsettling fear—the fear of being left behind. It is a feeling I know intimately. From childhood, absence shaped my reality, instilling in me an unspoken fear of being forgotten. In response, I made a silent vow: I would never do to others what had been done to me. I longed to create a sanctuary of unwavering presence, a space where people felt safe, seen, and supported—something I had never quite known myself.
For years, I clung to this promise, tethering myself to people, places, and commitments even when they no longer aligned with me. I gave endlessly, believing that loyalty meant endurance, that staying was an act of love—even at the cost of my own well-being. Well into my twenties, I poured from an empty cup, unable to admit:
“This is hurting me.”
“I need to take care of myself first.”
“This does not align with what I want.”
When I finally chose myself, it came with the weight of being misunderstood. Prioritizing my well-being was seen as selfish, and leaving the safety of home felt ungrateful to those who had provided for me. My decision was met with doubt, even labeled reckless, but I knew in my heart that it was the right step forward.
The guilt of leaving
Since then, I have wrestled with the guilt of leaving—leaving home, leaving relationships, leaving Singapore, and now, leaving Toulouse. But I do not leave because I lack appreciation for the people or the experiences I have shared. Quite the opposite—I hold them dearly. And yet, love and gratitude cannot always keep us where we no longer belong.
Sometimes, no matter how much we cherish something, we must acknowledge when it is time to let go. Leaving is not an act of betrayal but an act of growth. Closing one chapter is often the only way to begin another. And sometimes, growth requires leaving others behind.
The truth about letting go
Life is ever-changing, and part of that change is people coming and going in different ways. In the end, even the ones we love most will leave us, whether through circumstance, distance, or the natural course of life. If loss is an inevitable part of our journey, perhaps we can learn to meet it with acceptance rather than fear.
And perhaps, instead of fearing goodbyes, we can see them as gentle reminders of the meaningful connections we’ve had—the moments that touched our lives and left a lasting imprint. A farewell, after all, is only possible because something precious was there to cherish.
Navigating the overwhelming emotions of departure
I have found three practices that help ease the weight of leaving and being left:
Journaling: Writing offers me refuge. It allows me to articulate thoughts and emotions that often feel too heavy to voice.
Yoga: Movement releases tension, while meditation teaches me to sit with my emotions instead of resisting them.
Communication: We often suppress our feelings to avoid difficult conversations, but I have learned that naming our emotions is the first step toward understanding them and finding resolution.
I am still learning to navigate these emotions, just as you are.
As a yoga teacher, my purpose is to create a space where we can honor our emotions, move through them with awareness, and support one another in the process. Yet, I remind myself that teachers, too, need holding. While you may see yourselves as my students, you are so much more. In allowing me to care for you, you are also caring for me. Together, we move through the overwhelm.
In the ebb and flow of life, whether we choose to move forward or stay where we are, we will encounter pain. But healing will find us, too. Perhaps every departure isn’t just an ending, but a gentle invitation—one that guides us toward something new.




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