This is a personal reflection on the season when everything in my life felt like it was unraveling, only to reveal that something deeper was rebuilding beneath the surface. Grief, identity loss, motherhood, and transition pushed me inward, and that quiet work became the foundation for who I am today. If you are in your own still season, this essay will help you see it differently.

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There was a season in my life when everything felt like it was breaking at the same time. My aunt passed away, and soon after, my fiancé’s grandmother died. We were both grieving our own people and grieving together, which made it harder to be there for each other. The house felt heavy. We were trying to parent a toddler who needed our attention while also working full-time and trying to stay afloat.

Then we lost our childcare. Suddenly, I was working from home with my toddler in the office with me, trying to take calls while handing him snacks and toys. I was dealing with pressure at work and carrying grief in my body that I did not have the space to process. After weighing every option, we made the difficult decision that I would leave my job to care for our son.

It was the right choice, but it came with its own heartbreak. I loved my job. I loved being a sales leader. I loved my team. I loved the pace, the challenge, the problem-solving, and the identity I had built over more than two decades. Walking away felt like losing a part of myself. And in the quiet moments, another fear sat in my chest. Without my job, who was I. And if I stepped out of the workforce, would anyone want to hire me again? Would the career woman version of me fall so far behind that I could never catch up?

I remember the afternoons when my son napped and my fiancé was in his office working. I would go into our bedroom, close the door, sit on the edge of the bed, and cry because I felt untethered. I was mourning the people we lost, mourning the job I walked away from, and mourning an identity I was no longer sure how to hold. I didn’t have answers. I didn’t have a plan. All I had was the quiet.

During that time, I went back to therapy. We talked about prayer, which I had a complicated relationship with since childhood. When my mother died, adults told me that God wanted her beside Him. They meant well, but I was seven. I heard it as abandonment. For years, I carried anger because none of it made sense. Grief changes how you engage with faith.

But in that season, I slowly reconnected with God, and even more importantly, with myself. I deleted all my social apps. I started journaling every morning before my fiancé logged into work. He stayed with our son so I could go to the park and jog for peace of mind. Those runs became the only quiet I had.

At first, I thought I was withdrawing from life. I thought I was hiding because I had fallen behind. But as the weeks passed, something shifted. Fall came, and the trees started shedding their leaves. I used to hate that part of the year. It felt like everything was dying. Until I learned what was actually happening.

Trees drop their leaves to conserve energy. They pull nutrients inward. They strengthen their roots. They appear bare so they can survive winter and come back stronger in spring. What looks like losing is actually preparation.

The moment I learned that, something in me softened. For the first time, I saw myself the way I saw those trees. My life looked stripped down, but the work happening underneath was real. I was rebuilding even when it didn’t look like progress. I was reshaping my identity. I was imagining what it might feel like to build my own coaching practice. I was healing from the losses layered on top of each other. And I was learning that slowing down is not the same as falling behind.

The Underground Season

Before anything breaks through the surface, there is a long stretch of unseen work happening underneath. Roots deepen. Soil shifts. Strength builds in silence. That is what this season was for me.

I was healing patterns I had carried for years.
I was clarifying what I valued.
I was asking myself what kind of life I actually wanted.
I was letting go of the belief that my worth depended on productivity.
I was learning to trust that the career woman version of me was not disappearing. She was evolving.

None of this was impressive to look at from the outside. But without it, nothing stable could have grown.

You’re Exactly Where You Need to Be

If you feel like nothing is happening, you may be in your own underground season. This is not falling behind. This is foundation. This is preparation for what will come next. You are becoming strong enough to hold the life you are building.

The blooming will come.

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A Reflection for You

What roots are you growing quietly right now.
They are shaping the season you are stepping into next.

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