You’ve Changed—Now What?
A few weeks ago, I was sitting outside a coffee shop with my husband—iced coffee in hand, chatting about business stuff—when it hit me:
I’m not the same person who started all this.
What I want has changed. Who I am has changed. How I want to show up… yeah, that too.
And in the middle of that warm afternoon, in between sips and sidewalk chatter, the question surfaced:
If I’m not her anymore… then who am I now?
And how do I want that to feel—in my life, in my work, in the way I show up at all?
If you’ve been here before (or maybe you’re here right now), you know how disorienting that question can be.
The change is real.
But what comes after? That’s the part no one warns you about.
The truth about changing (and not knowing what comes next)
We love a good transformation story.
Burn it all down. Start fresh. Cue the dramatic music.
But what about the part after the burning, and before the rebuilding?
The part where your old clothes, old habits, old priorities don’t quite fit anymore—but you’re still figuring out what does?
The part where your voice shakes a little when you say, “Actually… I don’t want that anymore”?
The part where you look around at a life that once made sense and feel an odd mix of grief, freedom, fear, and deep relief?
No one really talks about that part.
But that’s where the magic happens.
When the performance ends
For me, this shift was self-chosen—but still scary.
It was sparked by burnout and grief. (Isn’t it always a little bit of both?)
But once I let myself name the truth—that I had changed—I could finally breathe.
It was like I had been holding my breath for years, performing a version of myself I didn’t actually recognize anymore.
And when I let that performance go?
It was terrifying.
And then… it was freeing.
Letting go of who you used to be
Here’s the part no one puts in their five-step transformation framework:
Sometimes, what you’re grieving isn’t just an old job or role—it’s an identity. A version of you that earned praise, or kept you safe, or helped you survive.
For me, that meant letting go of perfectionism.
Letting go of the idea that I needed to look a certain way or prove myself in order to be taken seriously.
Letting go of polished, curated, hyper-professional expectations—and reclaiming the real, slightly-snarky, band-tee-wearing, thrift-store-trophy-collecting version of myself.
And here’s what I’m stepping into instead:
Showing up as I actually am—not the version I think people expect
Letting my intuition lead (even when it makes zero logical sense)
Releasing the performance so I can build something that actually fits
There’s fear in that. Absolutely.
Fear of rejection. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of failure.
But there’s also this thought I keep coming back to:
“If I’m not getting the results I want while performing,
then what do I really have to lose by being me?”
If you’re in the middle of your own shift…
Maybe you’ve changed, too.
Maybe you’ve been burned out, or let down, or cracked open by grief.
Maybe you’ve outgrown who you used to be—and now you’re floating in that strange space between what was and what’s next.
If so, you’re not alone.
And you’re not lost.
You’re becoming.
You’re shedding what no longer fits, and that takes courage. You’re questioning the script, and that takes strength. You’re rewriting your story in real time—and no, you don’t need to have it all figured out yet.
You don’t need to reinvent yourself.
You just need to start with you.
When everything feels up in the air—when you’re tempted to rush into the next shiny thing or fix what doesn’t feel “clear” yet—what if you gave yourself permission to slow down?
To listen to yourself.
To trust that the clarity will come.
To let your next reflect who you truly are—not who you think you need to be.
Need a little support?
I created something for this exact moment—something gentle, honest, and designed for that tender “you’ve changed… now what?” phase.
🎧 Start With You: A free private podcast mini-series to help you reconnect with yourself, stop second-guessing, and take small, soul-aligned steps forward.
It’s short. It’s personal. It’s a soft place to land if you’re ready to feel like you again.
You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just becoming someone new.
And I love this journey for you.
