Not every cake turns out the way I think. A plan I imagined to be flawless simply disintegrates, or a customer never returns, or sometimes the frosting does not set. Early on, I carried all my mistakes around like they were me myself. I'd get mired in it again and again in my mind, sorry for it, I was furious, I failed.

But in the process, I learned something very important: holding on to everything just made me heavier. Letting go doesn't mean you care any less. It doesn't mean that you are surrendering. It simply means that you no longer carry what you can't carry—the things you can't control, the things that have already happened, and the moments that have already passed.

When I started releasing, it was as if something was lifting off my shoulders. Suddenly, there was space—for new ideas, for creativity, for experimenting with flavors I'd been too scared to try, and for the sheer pleasure of baking again. Even failures were lessons and not something that was weighing me down. A cake that collapsed once? Next time, I tried out a new technique that worked even better.

It ain't pretty. It's messy, it's emotional, and sometimes it's twelve tries. But it's liberating. And more often than not, release is exactly what we need to do to move forward, to grow, and to reach the next level—both in life and in the kitchen.