Packing for Freedom and All the Feelings That Come With It

There’s something sacred about the space between endings and new beginnings. That subtle place where one version of life has wrapped itself up, but the next chapter hasn’t fully begun. That’s where I find myself right now.

In between.

I've got a lot going on. My to do list seems endless. I'm tired from back to back cross country trips and a sinus infection that won't quit. I'm not exactly feeling inspired, however, I am feeling fully present in each moment. Feeling all the feels. I'm feeling overwhelmed with all the tasky things that are vying for my attention, while at the same time feeling excited about what's next without knowing how it's all going to unfold. 

I’m putting the finishing touches on my book proposal, What I've Learned From Other People’s Kids that Parents Need to Know, which is heading to a prominent publisher by the end of the month. I'm prepping to pitch the book to the media. And I'm writing furiously, at least when I am able to focus.

I’m also close to launching my first From Career to Calling event, even though it feels like slow going right now. Again, that focus thing. There’s is a lot of movement, but there’s also a lot of stillness. A lot of quiet reflection. A lot of letting go. A lot of wondering about how it will all unfold.

In a series of shocking synchronicity, and about 6 months before I was really prepared to buy, the perfect RV for me showed up in my Facebook feed. It was uncanny. In the right place, for the right price, and in a magical way that I simply could not ignore. I paid, did the paperwork and picked up the keys and ever since that day, there is a whole new next life on wheels taking shape in front of me.

I didn’t anticipate that the RV could capture my focus, but it feels like exactly what I'm supposed to be doing right now. The planning, the research, the organizing, and the YouTube deep dives feel therapeutic. There’s something healing about choosing interior color schemes, designing an exterior vinyl wrap, exploring storage hacks and shopping for what the experts say are necessities before getting on the road. I'm learning about surge protectors, water pressure gauges, generators and septic systems. I'm creating a storage system that will work on the road. I'm mapping out Harvest Host stops on the way to Indianapolis with a friend to see an Indiana Fever game. And then I'm plotting a solo trip up the East Coast, far away from Florida’s hurricane season and toward something familiar, yet brand new.
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Maybe freedom doesn’t come all at once in a lightning bolt of clarity. Maybe it arrives slowly over time and comes in bits and pieces and moments when I'm doing things like making a last minute decision to take a solo cruise to Alaska, or jumping on a plan to join my coauthors in the Book on Love launch. Or when I'm  learning how to drive a 28ft RV using big mirrors and a backup camera, or in understanding the need for a water pressure regulator, or surge protector. Or perhaps it comes from asking for help from a friend who’s willing to take a practice trip with so I can learn the RV ropes with confidence.

I’m also grieving. Deeply. There’s a soul-level connection I haven’t been able to shake for what seems like forever. It is a deep connection that feels both ancient and unfinished. One that resurfaces and is validated after long periods of silences but just continues to loop in the same fear-filled cycle. I don't do fear much anymore, so each time it shows up, I find myself feeling physically tired, emotionally tired, heart tired and soul tired. The time has come to close the door.

And yet even in the grief, there is grace. I’m not stuck. I’m moving forward. I'm picking up the pieces of myself and honoring them fully, one good-bye, one storage bin, one plane flight, one chapter at a time.

And then there’s my dad. He’s doing well right now. Really well, actually. It feels tenuous, like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, but maybe that’s exactly why I’ve been choosing to do some spur of the moment traveling. I am looking forward to hitting the road in my RV. I'm feeling drawn to freedom like never before, while I can. To trust that I can honor this moment — Dad's moment — while still claiming mine.

This season feels less like “reinvention” and more like integration. I’m not becoming someone new. I’m becoming more me.
More free.
More honest.
More aware.
More willing to ask for help.
More protective of my peace.

I don’t have all the answers right now. I waver sometimes. But I do have a clear sense that something powerful is beginning, even if it hasn’t shown its full form yet. So I’ll keep packing. Keep writing. Keep contemplating. Keep crossing things off my to do list. Keep driving. Keep clearing space inside and out.

And I’ll keep reminding myself that this in between space isn’t a holding pattern. It’s part of the becoming.

Here’s to what’s next ... and to honoring every moment, every step, every mile of what it takes to get there.

Would you like to navigate your own in between season with more grace? 


If you’re also finding yourself in the “not quite here, not quite there” space,between endings and beginnings, clarity and confusion, or loss and possibility, you are not alone. Here are a few gentle ways to ground yourself in the journey:

1. Honor the Pause.
You don’t have to rush to figure everything out. Sometimes the wisest thing you can do is let the next step reveal itself one breath, one mile, one moment at a time. Or even take a nap!

2. Tend to the Little Things.
Whether it’s organizing a drawer, making a playlist for your next road trip, or finally buying the surge protector, small actions have a way of restoring energy and supporting forward momentum.

3. Let Grief and Hope Coexist.
You can be heartbroken and hopeful at the same time. Give both emotions space. Neither one cancels the other out. They can shape you together.

4. Write Your Way Through It.
Whether it’s journaling, voice notes, or scribbling in the margins of your planner, give your thoughts a place to land. You don’t have to share it with anyone. Just let it out. Consider downloading my FREE 12 Question Reflection Journal here if you'd like some powerful journaling prompts. 

5. Ask Yourself This:
What does freedom feel like for me — right now, in this moment?

Sometimes clarity doesn’t come from thinking harder. Sometimes it comes from listening deeper.

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