This Wasn’t How It Was Supposed to End — and That’s Okay

As I regularly write about, lately, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting — not the quick kind that happens in passing moments between one obligation and the next, but the deep, quiet kind that forces you to sit with yourself and ask hard questions. The kind that invites both truth and discomfort.

Recently, I made what felt like an impossible decision: to leave what I once considered my heart and soul job. I poured everything I had into it — my time, energy, creativity, and passion. It was more than a role; it was part of my identity. Walking away wasn’t about failure. It was about recognizing that sometimes, even the most meaningful chapters must close for us to grow into who we’re meant to become next.

I wrote not long ago, about someone I had recently met, someone who helped me see that more clearly — an executive career coach who works with people navigating transitions and uncertainty. Our conversation wasn’t just about my career; it was about rediscovering me. About where I belong, who I am outside of titles and roles, and what I truly want the next chapter of my life to feel like. While we spoke about my hopes for the future, there were also questions that in the moment seemed meaningless, ones that left me baffled, but now I see the why. I was reminded that identity is not fixed — it shifts, molds, and transforms as we do. It’s okay if what once defined us no longer fits who we’re becoming. Growth sometimes means allowing ourselves to evolve beyond the very things that once made us feel whole.

This reflection has been deeply personal, woven with the challenges of motherhood and my daughter Madeleine’s need for me in ways I hadn’t allowed myself to fully embrace before. Life has a way of whispering reminders when we stop long enough to listen. For me, that whisper has become a call to be more present, softer in my expectations of myself, and open to the unknown.

Growth, I’ve learned, doesn’t come from comfort — it comes from the places that make us squirm, ache, and question everything we thought we knew. One of the greatest areas of growth I’ve experienced recently has been allowing myself to feel that discomfort instead of running from it. For a while, I hid from it — burying myself in home projects, in busyness, in anything that could distract my body and mind from the ache of change. But at the end of the day, I took the time. I felt the feelings. I grieved the could’ve, would’ve, should’ve — and somehow, in the middle of that mess, I found my peace.

I often write about parallels — who I was, who I am, and who I’m becoming. This moment is no different. If you had asked me three months ago where I thought I’d be, I would’ve said exactly where I was back then. I couldn’t have imagined this shift — this unraveling of what I thought I wanted. Yet here I am, standing in a new season that looks nothing like I planned and everything like what I need.

Five years ago, I would have looked back on a year like this with shame — picking apart what didn’t go as planned, criticizing myself for not holding it all together. I would have seen failure and devastation. But this time, I see something different. I see growth. I see courage. I see a woman learning that change doesn’t always come with closure, and endings don’t always mean loss. Sometimes, they mean becoming. The more we grow in emotional intelligence, the more the world begins to look different. We start to understand the “why” behind the pain, the lessons behind the endings, and the beauty in what once felt like chaos. Emotional growth brings clarity where we once saw only clouds — it helps us see that even in life’s hardest moments, the fog eventually lifts, revealing purpose we couldn’t see before..

So here’s to changing seasons — to reflection, growth, and the bravery it takes to say, “This no longer fits me, and that’s okay.” Because life doesn’t always unfold the way we anticipated, or even the way we once thought we wanted. And maybe that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.