Life is an interesting journey. We know hard things are inevitable but it’s been a bit disillusioning learning that we have to learn to navigate them on our own. They are not taught in school, and hard things have nothing to do with getting a good grade. They’re about learning to accept where we are, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Furthermore, we so rarely realize that others feel the same way or have gone through similar experiences. In many ways, we are trained to keep it in rather than living out loud. We’re taught to make others comfortable rather than telling our own truths.

I’ve found myself in the strangest season of life. For the past seven months, I’ve had a series of highs along with a series of what my friend calls “beautiful curveballs.” The successive nature started to feel like whiplash. I found I needed rest—it was so counter to those around me I felt like something was wrong with me or I was broken. I eventually found peace with my “Season of Slow” and wrote about it.

For too long I wanted to control it. To have the answers, to know what’s next, to know how the story ends. It’s the wild discomfort I had to get comfortable sitting in. Instead, converting that energy into a place of trust and finding peace with it. This is not what is modeled in the world around us.

As time has passed I’ve come to realize it’s part of something bigger, and I’m in something bigger than me that I can’t control. A transformation of sorts. It’s strange to be writing about it while I’m still in it, but I’ve come to realize that I need to write my way through it to process. (And everyone has their own ways of processing.) Earlier this week I recorded an episode of “Looks Like Work” with Chedva Kleinhandler which I feel like is a time capsule of this strange season I’m living through (it’s not online yet but should be soon).

Ultimately I know this is all about an uplevel—to what/where I don’t know. But first, it was important for me to rewind to understand that I’m sitting in discomfort. There’s so much emphasis on making kids happy that sometimes we can forget we need to get through the shit too. Navigating our way out isn’t instant. Trust me, I thought I was “through” this season many times already. While there’s no such thing as normal, I think it’s important to normalize discomfort.

Discomfort isn’t a bad thing. You’re not a failure. You’re not not good enough. Discomfort = I’m growing. I only recently made the connection that my neural pathways are still updating to the new set of more empowering beliefs I hold. There’s a shedding of the old ones. I can tell my body and nervous system are learning to regulate this new way of showing up in the world.

I’m making choices that aren’t my default/auto-pilot mode. They don’t always make sense to others. I’m doing things that are scary (to me). I’m learning that it’s not always so scary, yet still, it’s a different operating system that I’m still loading and learning how to process.

I don’t always have words to explain to friends what I’m going through. I’ve felt myself pull back. Have some days that are better than others. Really most days are many emotions as I’ve learned to get quiet in going slower, sit with it, and learn to trust my intuition. Somehow in growing up we’re taught to over-write the thing we need to trust most—ourselves.

I know this season of life is here to teach me something. And no doubt will—and perhaps already has—influence my work. I’ve long loved to explore “alternative narratives” and talk about the things that most people shy away from (like grief and loss). Transformation is a natural cycle of life just as a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. While no two experiences are the same, I always find it supportive to learn from others who have been there before.

I’d been blocked for a while and couldn’t write, but when I sat down to create these doodles they just came out. The same for this blog post.

A few other things that have helped me in this season:

Listening to the same song(s) on repeat. RY X (Bound – live at Prince Albert Hall and Oceans) whose concert I went to a couple months ago has been a staple, or I keep returning to this playlist.
Getting quiet. I’ve practically stopped listening to podcasts (if I do they are more on the spiritual side). I walk with my thoughts rather than my headphones.
Detox from Netflix and shows. Learning to be bored again.
LOTS of journaling. Often as an excuse to get out and sit at a café.
“The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho is a book I like to revisit every year. This year it hit much differently and harder.
Making space in my apartment. I cleaned off my desk. Unblocked energies. Opened up possibilities.
Therapy triangulated with support from my energy masseuse, and ongoing work I’ve done through To Be Magnetic to rewire my neural pathways.

I’m grateful for my Mapping Your Path community. In their honesty, vulnerability, and openness in sharing their own journeys, I’ve come to see themes of “how to human” that I’d never considered before—it’s like we’re a worldwide collective normalizing what should have been accepted from the start.

We may have seasons of slow. Life isn’t black and white. External validation is overrated. Transformation takes time. It’s time to trust ourselves. And while things can feel slow, it all can change at any moment—and be better than we could ever imagine. The fact that my guiding force for the year is “the magic within you” is not lost on me. While this season is hard and not always fun, it is also magical and special and joyful. I’m very curious where it takes me…

The next 3-month cohort of Mapping Your Path into 2023 opens for enrollment in September. You get to show up imperfectly, explore your path, find new clarity, and do it in a community of warm-hearted humans who are on journeys of their own.

The discomfort of transformation