Leaning into the New Season: Growing My Next Ring
A few days ago, I shared a metaphor during a continuing education training on resilience that continues to resonate deeply for me: the rings of a tree.
Inside every tree is a quiet, living record—rings that reflect not just its age, but its experience. The wide rings often mark seasons of ease and abundance. Narrow or uneven rings signal drought, storm, or survival after injury. No ring is erased or hidden; all are held in the body of the tree. And yet, the tree keeps growing.
Lately, I’ve been asking myself: What does my current ring look like?
This Season of Life: Not Just Change—Integration
The past few months have brought big changes—some I chose, others that arrived more suddenly. I’ve stepped out of long-standing roles and ways of working, and I’m finding my way in a new rhythm. If I had to describe the “climate” of this season, I’d call it partly cloudy with moments of storm and sun.
There are days that feel rich with possibility and others where I’m caught off guard by exhaustion or uncertainty. What I’m learning is this: I’m not just in a season of transition. I’m also in a season of rest, recovery, and reorientation. It’s all happening at once. And holding those truths together takes compassion and care.
Letting Go of the Strong-One Story
One story I’ve carried for a long time is that I had to be the strong one—the one holding everything up, the one others could count on. But if I’m honest, there were times I did drop the ball—because there was simply too much. And still, I kept going. I pushed past my limits, often without pausing to ask whether I had anything left to give. It became a quiet badge of honor—that I could keep going no matter what.
That story helped me survive. But it also kept me over-functioning, over-giving, and over-extending. I ignored warning signs in myself. I stayed “on” even when what I really needed was to pause. And I convinced myself that pushing through was proof of strength.
But I’m beginning to see that real strength isn’t about how much I can carry or how long I can endure. It’s about knowing when it’s too much, allowing support, and giving myself permission to step back when something no longer feels sustainable—or true to who I am.
That way of living isn’t sustainable. And it’s no longer aligned with the life I want to lead.
More Than Burnout
What I experienced wasn’t just burnout. That word suggests I gave too much, and I did. But it also doesn’t capture the full truth.
For the past many years, I worked within a system that was often shaped by VUCA—Volatility, Uncertainty, Complexity, and Ambiguity. It wasn’t all hard. There were meaningful improvements, strong relationships, and moments where things truly felt aligned. But the cumulative impact of long-standing instability and misalignment took a toll. Even when progress was made, the earlier strain had already left an imprint—and when challenges reemerged, the old weight returned more easily.
These weren’t just personal challenges. They were environmental realities—inconsistent communication, shifting priorities, and a persistent pull toward productivity and metrics that didn’t always reflect what mattered most to me or the people we served. While I take responsibility for how I navigated that space, I also believe systems have to be accountable for the conditions they create and reinforce.
Even though I know I can still do that work, I’m choosing a different path—one that feels more aligned with how I want to live and who I’m becoming. I’m letting go of a way of being that once felt necessary but no longer fits.
This next chapter asks for something else: a steadier rhythm, more space to breathe, and a deeper connection to what truly matters.
What Grounds Me Now
I’m focusing my energy on what’s meaningful to me: work that is intentional, values-aligned, and paced in a way that allows for breath. I’m supported by my husband, my kids, and my animals—who remind me daily that I don’t have to prove anything to be worthy of care. That I’m allowed to take up space. That “being” is enough.
I miss the people I worked with—the colleagues, the friendships. But I don’t miss working in environments where effort doesn’t always lead to impact, and priorities can shift overnight. There’s a different kind of accountability now. One that feels more personal, more empowered, and more rooted in my own integrity.
What This Ring Looks Like
If I had to describe my current ring, I’d say it’s wide and light-filled. A ring of steady, consistent growth—not rushed, not brittle, not thin from lack of nourishment. It’s a ring with space. With breath. With softness.
Compared to past seasons—where my rings were tight, dry, and sometimes formed around depletion—this one feels like a reclaiming.
For You, If You’re In Transition Too
If you’re in a season of change—whether by choice or circumstance—I hope this reminds you:
You are allowed to pause.
You don’t have to carry it all.
It’s okay to choose differently, even if you can still do what you used to.
You are not alone.
You are growing, even now.
May this season form a ring in you that is spacious, steady, and well-supported.
Be well,
Kristin
