The Art of Slow Transitions: Finding Grace in the Space Between
What happens when you give yourself permission to transition slowly, deliberately, and with deep intention?
For most of my career, I approached transitions with swift decisiveness. When a role no longer served me, my pattern was clear: make the decision, execute the change, and navigate the uncertainty afterward. This approach had served me well in many ways—it demonstrated confidence, moved me quickly through discomfort, and often led to growth opportunities. Yet it also meant I consistently bypassed the nuanced learning that exists in the liminal space between decisions and actions.
As someone naturally inclined toward action and forward momentum, sitting with uncertainty felt fundamentally uncomfortable. The idea of remaining in a known situation while contemplating an unknown future seemed counterintuitive to progress.
But burnout has a way of teaching you lessons you never knew you needed.The Gift of Undefined Time
After three months of learning to "be a cat"—sleeping, playing, rediscovering the joy of making art in many forms—I returned to my tech leadership role in January 2024 with a resignation letter already written and pinned to my bulletin board. But something had fundamentally shifted during my leave. Instead of my usual pattern of immediate action, I found myself checking in each morning with a simple question: "Is today the day I resign?"
For six months, the answer was consistently, resoundingly: "No. Stay."
This was revolutionary for someone who typically moved from decision to action in the span of a coffee break. But those months of slowing down had taught me to trust my inner guidance system, even when—especially when—it asked me to wait in uncertainty.
The Unexpected Beauty of Intentional Presence
Knowing I would eventually leave created the most paradoxical experience: I became more present than I'd ever been in that role. Without the pressure of climbing ladders or impressing leadership, I could focus entirely on what mattered—my team's growth, their career aspirations, their success.
I created succession plans not because they were required, but because they felt like acts of love. I shifted my source of validation from external approval to internal knowing. I stopped performing and started simply being—fully engaged, genuinely invested, authentically myself.
The relationships deepened. The work became meaningful in ways it never had when I was striving for the next promotion or recognition.
Embracing the Nuances of Change
Traditional career advice tells us to have our next move lined up before we make any transitions. But there's profound wisdom in allowing yourself to sit in the space between—to let your next chapter reveal itself organically rather than forcing it into existence.
During those six months, I:
Faced my fears about losing corporate security
Developed a financial plan that honored both prudence and faith
Built new networks aligned with my emerging path
Grieved the end of a 20-year corporate career chapter
Celebrated the growth and relationships that era had brought me
Each of these steps needed time to unfold. Rushing would have meant missing the depth, the integration, the real transformation happening beneath the surface.
When Your Body Says "Now"
The morning my inner guidance finally shifted to "Yes, today is the day," I felt it in my entire being. Not just a mental decision, but a full-body knowing. My team was ready. I was ready. The path ahead had clarified just enough for the next step.
Six months of patient transition had created something I'd never experienced before: a change that felt organic, aligned, and deeply grounded rather than reactive or fear-driven.
The Ripple Effects of Slow Transitions
Has entrepreneurship been easy? Absolutely not. Have I regretted the decision for even a moment? Not once.
My health has transformed. I've written and published my first book. I've traveled the world. Most importantly, I've found a renewed sense of purpose that keeps my eyes ever on the horizon of growth and service.
But perhaps most significantly, I learned that transitions don't have to be dramatic plot twists. They can be gentle unfoldings, careful tending, patient nurturing of what wants to emerge.
The Invitation
If you're in your own season of transition—whether chosen or thrust upon you—consider this: What would it look like to honor the nuances? To give yourself permission to not know the full picture before taking the first step?
Your inner guidance system is always available, always speaking. Sometimes it asks you to leap. Sometimes it asks you to wait. Both require courage.
The space between who you were and who you're becoming isn't empty time to rush through—it's sacred ground where transformation happens.
Trust the process. Trust the timing. Trust yourself.
Your next chapter is already being written in the quiet moments when you're brave enough to listen.