When Life Shifts: Finding Stability in the Middle of Change

Life change is inevitable. It’s not a glitch in the system. It is the system.

Personally, I think of it as earth school. From the moment we’re born, we are in a continuous state of becoming—and letting go.

But knowing that doesn’t make it easier when change arrives uninvited. Whether it’s a move, a divorce, a loss, a career pivot, or a diagnosis that shatters life as we know it—what matters most in those moments is not that we “handle it well,” but that we don’t have to handle it alone.

Jane’s Story: When the End Became a Celebration

Jane wasn’t her real name, but her impact was real and lasting. She was a mother—her daughter a teenager, her son just into his twenties—and she was dying of cancer.

She didn’t want a funeral.

Not out of fear. Not out of denial. She simply didn’t want the formality, the weight of it. The word “funeral” felt like a burden, like something meant for someone else.

When I sat with her and gently asked if she was opposed to a celebration, her expression changed.

“What if it’s not for you?” I asked. “What if it’s for them—the ones who’ll remain?”

That landed. We talked more, and she softened to the idea of allowing her people a place to grieve together. To remember who she was—not just in her final days, but in the full brilliance of her life.

She agreed. Not to a funeral, but to a celebration.

And celebrate we did.

It happened on the funeral home lawn. The air was soft and warm. And at one point, music filled the space—and we danced. Specifically the twist. Because Jane had taught her kids how to do it using a towel, pretending they were drying off.

We laughed. We moved. We remembered her in the most alive way possible.

Grief didn’t disappear. But it was held. Witnessed. Shared. It gave her family and friends an anchor in the middle of a storm they couldn’t stop.

And that’s the thing about life shifts—whether you’re watching someone go, or you’re the one staying behind—they ripple through you in ways you can’t always predict. Sometimes the most healing choice is the one that doesn’t follow the script.

What All Life Changes Have in Common

We don’t always realize it at first, but major life transitions share a pattern:

There’s a loss of the known.
A period of disorientation.
And eventually, a new normal that includes learning.

It could be the end of a relationship. A job loss. Becoming a parent. Moving to a new city. Retiring earlier than planned. Watching your child leave home. Facing your own mortality. Or someone else’s.

The shape of the change doesn’t matter as much as what it feels like.

It’s the in-between that gets us.

That liminal space—where things are no longer what they were, but not yet what they will be—is often where we need the most support.

And not the “you got this!” kind of support that asks you to smile before you’re ready.

What most people really need in those moments is presence. Someone to hold space while they find their footing again and figure out what it is they are trying to learn from what is happening.

They don’t need advice. They’re not looking for quick fixes. They are looking for someone to hear them.

Someone who can hear the unsaid things. Who can sit beside the pain or the fear or the fragile hope without rushing it away.

The Quiet Joy of Starting Over

Let me tell you about another friend. He used to spend his days turning wrenches in a local auto shop. It was good work. Honest work. But something in him was restless. Ready.

He applied for a teaching job at the community college. The position would mean less grease and more grading, but it also meant a chance to invest in the next generation. He didn’t know if they’d accept him—he didn’t have teaching experience, just a lot of practical know-how.

They did.

That first semester wasn’t easy. The program was messy and had been neglected for too long. The students were not always eager to learn and, the systems unfamiliar. Some of the faculty had been there for decades, and he was the new guy trying to prove himself.

But he kept showing up.

And slowly, he found his rhythm. His stories from the shop gave context to the theory. His hands-on wisdom gave the students confidence.

He never imagined himself as a teacher. But now, years later, he can’t imagine doing anything else. There’s quiet joy in it—not because it’s always smooth—but because he knows his work matters.

And none of it would have happened if he hadn’t let himself be uncomfortable for a while.

You Don’t Have to Handle It All Alone

No matter what kind of life transition you’re facing—grief, growth, endings, beginnings—it’s okay to feel everything at once.

You don’t have to be strong every minute.

You don’t have to have a five-year plan.

You don’t have to pretend you’re fine if you’re not.

Sometimes, just saying it out loud—"This is hard. I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel completely lost."—can bring the first breath of calm back into your body.

And you deserve that.

Because you’re not failing at life just because you’re in the middle of a transition. You’re being human.

That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

And if you could use someone to talk to—someone who won’t try to fix or minimize or redirect—you’re in the right place.

At HOLD, we offer confidential, compassionate listening that meets you where you are. Whether you’re navigating a big life change or just need a space to think out loud, we’re here.

No pressure. No performance.

Just room to breathe, to cry, to be angry….whatever you need to get out.

And from there?

Knowing comes.
Not all at once.
But enough for the next small step.