September landed different this year.
Not with the familiar rustle of new beginnings, but with something heavier.
There are layers of change dosing my days.
I'm writing this to you from the messy middle of my own becoming—having just lost my father, launched my kids into their own lives, and found myself in that strange territory where you realize you're still growing up. Even at 47.
There's nothing quite like losing a parent to remind you that growing up isn't a destination. It's a practice.
Impatience Is Loud Right Now
My clients are feeling it too. A restless urgency that's crackling through September, through eclipse season, through a world that feels perpetually off-kilter.
"How long until I figure this out?"
"When will I stop feeling so uncertain?"
"Can we just skip to the part where I know what I'm doing?"
I hear these questions in session after session with the impact leaders, creatives, and conscious business owners I work with. The same questions echo in my own chest as I navigate this strange new landscape of empty nest, growing business, and grief that shape-shifts daily.
Everyone wants to fast-forward past the uncomfortable middle.
But here's what I keep learning, over and over:
The uncomfortable middle is where the magic lives.
Practicing What I Preach (And Why That Matters)
"Hopey, how are you handling all this at once? Are you okay?"
The question lands in my inbox regularly these days—from clients, friends, even my own family watching me navigate this pile-up of transitions. I’m grateful for their care.
And here's my honest answer: I'm not handling it perfectly. I'm handling it humanly.
Some days I wake up clear and centered. Other days I'm impatient with my own process, annoyed that I can't just skip to the part where I feel settled again. Some mornings I catch myself cycling through old patterns, flip-flopping between confidence and doubt.
But this is exactly why I feel so well-suited to guide others through their own thresholds.
Because I know exactly how it feels when your nervous system sounds the alarm bells. I know the spiral of uncertainty, the way transitions trigger every survival instinct we have. I know what it's like to want someone to just tell you what comes next.
And I know what actually helps.
The compassion. The tenderness. The gentle reminder that messy doesn't mean you're doing it wrong.
This is the muscle I've been building for years—the ability to be with uncertainty without collapsing into it. To feel my feelings fully while still showing up for what matters.
It's also why I reach out for my own support. Because doing this work alone is where I start to spiral. I need my own reflectors, my own people who can see me clearly when I can't see myself.
Sometimes I tell my brother James, "I want my own Hope in my own corner."
And that's the point.
When Everything Becomes a Revision
When my father left, part of me left too. But something else happened—time became starkly punctuated.
Suddenly I found myself paying finer attention to how I was spending each moment, like I'd been handed a clean slate and told to revise everything. What still mattered? What could I finally let go? What deserved sharper focus in whatever time I had left?
This is what I'm realizing transformation and thresholds are really about: deciding again on purpose what you want to keep, what you want to discard, and what you want to bring into clearer view.
But here's the secret ingredient nobody talks about: you have to move slower. You can't rush past the grief, or skip the uncomfortable house cleaning that comes with any real change.
The messages from the deep—the ones that tell you what actually matters—only emerge when you're willing to sit with the unknown. When you give yourself permission to be still and patient in the pause.
It's uncomfortable as hell. And it's exactly where everything shifts.
That old saying about time healing all wounds? I think it's deeper than that. You need the time. You need the pauses. You need to be still because the answers are always there—waiting in the silence you're usually too busy to hear.
The Work of My Life
Here's what I'm realizing: This isn't me regurgitating a textbook or spinning off the latest trend. This is me doing the actual work of my life while learning and evolving myself. And I guess it’s also about me sharing and guiding others on this human path.
I'm not guiding from some place of having figured it all out. I'm embodying and practicing what I'm asking my clients to step into: the failure tolerance, the expansion of capacity (not just capabilities), the deciding your life on purpose, and being your own best friend to the end.
I walk alongside my clients in their deeply human thresholds not as the expert who has all the answers, but as someone who's willing to be in the dance with them. Who can hold space for the messiness while reflecting back their wisdom. Who can stay unwaveringly in their corner when they can't see their own strength.
Because I know what it feels like to need that kind of witness.
Your September Practice
If you're feeling the impatience too, if you're tired of being in between, I have a gentle invitation:
What if this is exactly where you're supposed to be?
What if the answers you're seeking aren't ahead of you, but inside this very moment of not knowing?
What if slowing down is the secret to speeding up your real transformation?
Here's what slowing down actually looks like day-to-day:
Make time and space for messiness.
For me, early mornings are when I let the messiness unfurl. Sometimes it's just staying in my PJs for a few hours, journaling, watching my thoughts and stories. A witnessing what's going on in there instead of jamming it down and getting on with my day.
Because here's the thing: when we push thoughts and feelings down, they goes somewhere—and that somewhere is in our physical bodies. That's where our somatic nervous system gets janky and down right discombobulated.
When your nervous system is feeling messy—emotional, dysregulated, like you can't quite get a handle on yourself, these are a few tried and tested practices I turn to.
Tapping (I love the work of my friend Daniela for EFT) to release what may be stuck in the body
Spending time in a bath with salts and essential oils. I call it a bath soup:) For me, this is the ultimate channel changer any time of the day.
Listening to music that moves something in you. Spotify has been learning what stirs me. I am amazed at their (Ai) personalized playlists.
Drinking lots of water (seriously, hydration helps everything). And my water obsessed friends recently put me onto this beautiful jug that restructures water for absorption.
Resting longer than you think you need to. If you truly feel tired, don't just push through with caffeine—listen to your body. I often turn to a ten minute Yoga Nidra nervous system reset.
Spend time with a trusted reflector, a human who can deeply hear you and mirror back what may be coming up.
No big sweeping moves. Just begin with one morning or evening practice of PAUSE. Even 20 minutes of not rushing into your day can change everything.
Try this question shift: Instead of asking "How long until I figure this out?" ask "What wants to emerge if I give this process the time it needs?"
And then listen.
In the pause. In the breath. In the beautiful, uncomfortable space between who you were and who you're becoming.
That's where I'll meet you.
"You are not supposed to be happy all the time. Life hurts and it's hard. Not because you're doing it wrong, but because it hurts for everybody. Don't avoid the pain. You need it. It's meant for you. Be still with it, let it come, let it go, let it leave you with the fuel you'll burn to get your work done on this earth." Brianna Weist
Bonus Restore Practice
I wanted to share a restorative practice I come back to during these times, especially during my PAUSE moments.
"Transition Inventory" practice:
Set a timer for 10 minutes and write down every single thing that's changing or uncertain in your life right now—from the massive (career shift, kids leaving, relationship changes) to the tiny (new morning routine, different grocery store).
Then for each item, ask yourself and write (or I also audio journal): "What am I making this mean about me?"
Most of us unconsciously turn life transitions into evidence that we're behind, failing, or not capable enough. But transitions are just neutral circumstances—it's our thoughts about them that create the suffering.
The aha occurs when you separate what's actually changing from the story you're telling yourself about what it means. Suddenly, you're not a mess who can't handle life—you're a human navigating multiple changes with awareness and intention.
My mother recently taught me about Döstädning—Swedish Death Cleaning (you know how much I love adopting new words:). It's decluttering what you carry so you don't burden others with unnecessary baggage. What if we applied this to our transitions? Ask: "Does this story serve who I'm becoming, or is it just familiar clutter I'm carrying forward?"
Bonus insight: Notice how many transitions you're trying to solve simultaneously. Your brain thinks it needs to figure out ALL the changes at once. Pick one transition to focus on this week. Let the others just... be in process.
If this resonates, I'd love to hear what September is teaching you. Reply and tell me—what wants to slow down in your life right now?
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Please reStack or share if this lit something in you.
With tenderness,
Hope
