How Does 'Let That Shit Go' Help With Emotional Healing?

Reading 'Let That Shit Go' was like getting a mental detox. The book breaks emotional healing into actionable steps, stripping away the fluff. One standout technique is its approach to rumination—it compares clinging to old pain to carrying a rotten backpack everywhere. You’re taught to physically map your emotions (anger sits in the chest, grief in the throat) and release them through movement or creative outlets.

The section on forgiveness is particularly nuanced. It doesn’t demand you absolve others but guides you toward releasing the emotional hooks they left in you. I applied its “boundary blueprint” method to a toxic work relationship, learning to say no without guilt. The book also dives into somatic healing, explaining how unprocessed emotions manifest as physical tension. After doing its body-scan exercises for a month, my chronic shoulder pain eased—proof that emotional baggage isn’t just metaphorical.

What sets it apart is the emphasis on progress over perfection. The author shares relatable fuck-ups, like snapping at a partner mid-growth, showing healing isn’t about becoming a Zen master but about developing resilience. It’s the only book I’ve reread annually because each pass reveals new layers.

This book doesn’t just preach—it meets you where you’re at. I initially rolled my eyes at the title, but 'Let That Shit Go' surprised me with its depth. It blends psychology with street-smart wisdom, like comparing emotional wounds to untreated infections that fester if ignored. The journal prompts forced me to confront habits I didn’t realize were self-sabotaging, like downplaying my needs to keep peace.

Its strength lies in reframing. Instead of vilifying anger or sadness, it treats them as signals—your inner alarm system. One exercise has you track emotional triggers like a scientist, identifying patterns without judgment. I discovered my “people-pleasing” spikes during family calls, which led me to set clearer limits.

The book also tackles societal myths, like the pressure to “forgive and forget.” It argues some wounds don’t fully close, and that’s okay—healing is about building capacity to carry scars lightly. After practicing its “five-minute purge” technique (venting raw emotions into a voice memo), I slept better than I had in years. If you want a guide that feels like therapy without the couch, this is it.

I picked up 'Let That Shit Go' during a rough patch, and it hit differently than other self-help books. The author doesn’t sugarcoat things—they frame emotional healing as a messy, nonlinear process, which feels refreshingly honest. Instead of forcing positivity, it teaches you to sit with discomfort, recognize triggers, and slowly untangle yourself from toxic patterns. The exercises are practical, like writing letters you never send or visualizing emotions as passing storms. It helped me stop overanalyzing past conflicts and focus on small, daily actions that rebuild self-trust. The book’s bluntness makes it relatable; it’s like having a no-nonsense friend who calls you out but also hands you the tools to move forward.