Last updated on June 15, 2025
“It’s beyond me.”
I can still hear my Mamaw’s voice saying it—soft, certain, full of the kind of wisdom that didn’t need to raise its volume to be heard. She said it often. Not as a shrug or a dismissal, but as a calm declaration that whatever it was… wasn’t hers to carry.
As a child, I didn’t fully understand what she meant. It sounded mysterious, almost cosmic. “It’s beyond me,” she’d say with a little nod, a knowing smile, and then go back to peeling apples or folding towels like she hadn’t just released an entire situation to the universe.
She died many years ago, and I miss her every day—her steady hands, her unconditional love, and the way she always seemed to know when to hold on and when to let go.
Recently, I caught myself saying those very words. Not in mimicry, but from someplace deep and familiar. Something had frustrated me, and instead of trying to fix it or spin it or wrestle with it in my head, I just exhaled and said, “It’s beyond me.”
And right then, I understood exactly what she meant.
It wasn’t about giving up. It wasn’t apathy. It was surrender—but the good kind. The kind where you recognize what’s not yours to control and gently release it before it starts building a nest in your brain or your heart. My Mamaw wasn’t interested in carrying around every broken thing. She knew her peace mattered. And she knew how to guard it.
These days, I’ve been surrendering a lot. Not in a defeated way—but in a deliberate, intentional way. I’ve been surrendering to truth. To love. To abundance. To freedom. To the impact I feel called to make. And when something doesn’t serve those things—when it drains, distracts, or detours me—I remind myself: It’s beyond me.
It’s not mine to fix.
It’s not mine to prove.
It’s not mine to drag behind me like an old story that never got rewritten.
We’re allowed to let things go without shame. Without apology. Without one last dramatic attempt to make sense of them. Sometimes, the greatest act of strength is choosing not to give a situation more space than it deserves.
And when I say those words—It’s beyond me—I feel something shift. I feel myself step out of the tug-of-war. I feel my shoulders soften. My jaw unclench. My heart make room for better things.
It’s a kind of healing, really.
A kind of love.
A kind of trust.
It’s saying, “I see this. I understand it. And I release it.”
And it reminds me that I’m not here to carry everything.
I’m here to live fully.
To love deeply.
To dance when the music plays and rest when it doesn’t.
To be honest about what fits in my spirit—and what doesn’t anymore.
So if something is weighing on you today, and you know deep down it’s not yours to solve or hold or fix… maybe try saying it out loud.
“It’s beyond me.”
And feel the quiet strength in that surrender.
About the Author
Leslie Nance is a Holistic Cancer Coach, Certified Holistic Nutritionist, speaker, and author. She helps women heal with clarity, courage, and soul. Writing and teaching about mindset, wellness, and living a life that feels as good on the inside as it looks on the outside.
