Today I Choose to be Cleansed – How to be Cleansed

The most cleansing experience of my life didn’t come from a retreat or a juice fast. It came in the middle of Curtis’s health crisis, when I’d been holding everything together for too long. One night, I went out to the car in the hospital parking lot and finally let myself sob—ugly, shaking, guttural tears that left me drained and somehow lighter. When I finally stopped, I felt something had shifted. Cleansing isn’t always about purification; sometimes it’s about emptying out the grief, the fear, the weight you’ve been carrying so you can breathe again.

That hospital parking lot became my sanctuary. Night after night, while Curtis slept fitfully upstairs, I’d escape to my car. Sometimes to scream. Sometimes to sob. Sometimes just to sit in silence and let the pressure release. No meditation app, no breathing exercises—just raw, unfiltered emotion pouring out where no one could see.

I’d been carrying so much—not just Curtis’s crisis, but years of accumulated weight. The stress of being CFO at a struggling company. The worry about our adult kids. The grief of watching my parents age. It all came out in that parking lot, mixing with cigarette butts and oil stains on concrete. Not exactly the kind of cleansing you see in wellness magazines.

The Myth of Beautiful Cleansing

We’re sold this idea that cleansing should be serene. Sage smudging. Sound baths. Gentle detoxes with green juice. But real cleansing—the kind that actually shifts something—is often ugly. It’s snot and mascara running down your face. It’s throwing up emotions you’ve swallowed for years. It’s messy and exhausting and nothing you’d post on Instagram.

The night I truly cleansed in that parking lot, I looked terrible. Red eyes, swollen face, hair stuck to my cheeks with tears. But I felt lighter than I had in years. Like I’d finally put down bags I didn’t realize I’d been carrying.

What Cleansing Actually Feels Like

In your body, real cleansing feels like emptying. Not the gentle release of a yoga class, but the complete evacuation of everything you’ve been holding. Your chest cavity feels hollow but clean. Your shoulders drop inches. Your jaw unclenches for the first time in months.

There’s also exhaustion—the good kind, like after giving birth or finishing a marathon. You’re depleted but somehow more yourself. The static in your head clears. You can hear your own thoughts again.

Different Types of Emotional Cleansing

The Anger Purge
Sometimes cleansing is finally letting yourself be furious. After years of being “understanding” about my company’s struggles, I finally let myself rage in my car. Screamed about unfairness, incompetence, being taken for granted. That anger had been poisoning me from inside. Letting it out was like lancing an infection.

The Grief Release
Other times it’s letting sorrow move through you completely. Not managing it or containing it, but letting it wash over you like a wave. When my dad was dying, I tried to stay strong. The cleansing came later, months after, when I finally let myself feel the full weight of losing him.

The Fear Exodus
During Curtis’s worst moments, I held my terror in check. Had to function, make decisions, advocate for him. But alone in that car, I could let the fear pour out. “What if he dies? What if I can’t do this alone? What if, what if, what if?” Voicing the fears somehow made them smaller.

The Joy Overflow
Not all cleansing is about negative emotions. Sometimes it’s finally letting yourself feel the joy you’ve been afraid to trust. When Curtis turned the corner, I ugly-cried with relief and gratitude. That too was cleansing—releasing the held breath of hope.

Why We Resist Cleansing

We’re Afraid of the Mess
Once you start releasing, you don’t know when it will stop. What if I fall apart completely? What if I can’t put myself back together?

We’re Addicted to Control
Holding emotions in check feels like strength. Letting them out feels like weakness. But contained emotions don’t disappear—they ferment.

We Don’t Have Safe Spaces
Where can a 61-year-old woman fall apart without judgment? Not at work. Not in front of the kids. Sometimes not even with friends. My car became my safe space by default.

We Think We Don’t Have Time
Who has time for emotional cleansing when there are bills to pay, parents to care for, crises to manage? But the time we don’t take for cleansing, we pay for in exhaustion, illness, and numbness.

Creating Space for Cleansing

Find Your Parking Lot
It doesn’t have to be a literal parking lot. Find somewhere you can be completely honest with your emotions. Your car, the shower, a walking trail, your garage. Somewhere you can be as loud or as quiet as you need.

Stop Performing Strength
We’ve been taught that falling apart is failure. But sometimes the strongest thing you can do is stop holding it all together. Let it fall. You can rebuild from clean ground.

Don’t Pretty It Up
Resist the urge to make your cleansing palatable. You don’t need candles or ceremonies (unless that helps you). Sometimes you just need to scream into a pillow or sob into a dish towel.

Trust the Empty
After cleansing, there’s often emptiness. We rush to fill it, afraid of the void. But that emptiness is sacred space. It’s room for something new. Let it be empty for a while.

The Aftermath of True Cleansing

After that night in the hospital parking lot, I was different. Not fixed, not healed, but cleaner. The fog lifted. I could make decisions again. I could be present with Curtis without the static of suppressed emotion interfering.

People noticed. “You seem lighter,” they said. “More yourself.” I was. Not because my circumstances had changed, but because I’d finally let out what I’d been carrying.

Cleansing as Regular Maintenance

Now I know: cleansing isn’t a one-time event. It’s regular maintenance. Every few weeks, I need to empty out. Sometimes it’s tears, sometimes it’s rage, sometimes it’s just sitting in silence and letting the pressure release.

I’ve stopped waiting for crisis to force the cleansing. I schedule it like any other self-care. “Thursday night: fall apart in car.” It sounds ridiculous, but it works.

Today’s Choice

Today, choose to be cleansed—not in some Pinterest-perfect way, but in whatever way your body and soul need. Maybe it’s crying in your car. Maybe it’s screaming into the woods. Maybe it’s writing pages of rage you’ll never send. Maybe it’s dancing until you’re dripping sweat and exhaustion.

Let it be messy. Let it be ugly. Let it be real. Because true cleansing isn’t about purification—it’s about release. It’s about making space. It’s about finally, finally putting down what you’ve been carrying so you can breathe again.