It’s Okay to Admit It’s Hard
The following article was originally posted to my Substack newsletter
It’s something you’ve been dreaming of for years and you thought this would feel different. You finally reached your goal, or started the new position, or retired from working and can finally travel. Up to this moment you’ve been rehearsing this new life in your mind, layering in all of the benefits and looking at it from every angle. This moment is supposed to feel amazing. You’re supposed to be excited. Your chest isn’t supposed to feel tight. You aren’t supposed to feel like you’re in fight or flight mode.
It doesn’t make sense and you’re afraid to tell people how difficult this is. Your new baby is adorable and all of the outfits are folded in a drawer ready for the photos you’re going to take. But right now you feel broken. You don’t understand why you’re not reveling in constant bliss.
This new promotion is the one you’ve been building toward your entire career. You stayed up late for years planning your next steps to ensure the higher-ups would see your skills and abilities. You put in the hours at the office and missed family dinners for this moment. As you sit in your new office something feels off and you’re worried you made a mistake.
I’m right there with you. I was a stay-at-home mom to my seven kids for 20 years and the same year that I became a grandma my youngest child started kindergarten. Finally, it was my turn to pursue a career. My plan was to do a hard launch of my new business and I couldn’t wait.
Instead this transition knocked me down and I’m struggling to get back up.
For the last two decades my identity was set. I was an Army wife and mom and didn’t see myself as much more than that. I pursued a couple of business ideas for short stints but most of the time my whole focus was on my family. I lost myself in pursuit of being Mom. I didn’t understand how much I’d lost myself in the process until my youngest started school.
Over the years our family endured countless large T traumas so I was shocked when this seemingly simple transition knocked me down. Instead of leaning into my new-found freedom, I felt imprisoned by my own fears of my new normal.
I felt lost.
Maybe you feel lost to? Your transition is a lot harder than you imagined and you’re afraid to tell people how much you’re struggling because you don’t want to sound like a whiner. There is a long line of people who only wish they could be in the stage you’re in and you’re worried you seem ungrateful. You can’t explain why you feel this way and wish it was easier.
We’re not alone.
Every transition forces a change in identity and it’s a jarring experience that we don’t talk enough about. Everything that was familiar before is gone and you’re stepping out into a new normal that feels foreign. Transitioning is like a wave that sweeps you up from one point and drops you off in another after tossing you around for a while. Your life feels upside down and jumbled. You might even experience physical pains and illnesses while your nervous system adjusts to the changes.
Thankfully, it’s not going to feel this way forever and there are things you can do to help yourself through the process so you come out on the other side healthier and happier.
Dr. Edith Eger, in her book “The Choice,” explains that when we diminish our pain it becomes a part of us and will show up in some unwanted form in the future. By acknowledging the pain of your transition you are doing your future-self a favor. There is no shame in admitting that this process hurts, even if it’s something you’ve dreamt of your entire life. Admitting you’re struggling isn’t weak or whiny, it’s healthy and it will help you move forward.
That’s why I’m admitting to you today that I’m struggling with watching my youngest start kindergarten. I spent a lot of time shaming myself for not doing more with this new found freedom. I beat myself up for not launching my business ideas and shutting down every time I thought about taking a tentative step forward. I also know that vulnerability with family and friends, and now with you, is the path toward a healthy new normal. By admitting my struggle I’m lessening its hold on me.
If you’re struggling in your own transition please reach out to a trusted friend and let them know that you’re having a hard time. Tell them you need a safe place to share your feelings, even if you can’t make sense of them. Make sure they know that you just need someone to listen, not someone to try to fix it right now, so that you can start to process your feelings. You can also reach out to me by sending me a message.
It’s going to be alright.
It’s hard now, but it’s going to get easier. There is no shame in admitting this is hard.
