Change Happens in the Messy Middle

Stepping away from the security of a long-term role into the unknown through redundancy was not a neat or tidy transition. The ground shifted deeply. After twenty-five years in a truly inspiring organisation, the familiar structure of work disappeared almost overnight, along with the reassurance of knowing where I belonged and what came next.

The foundation I had relied on didn’t just shift; it vanished!

My routines collapsed, I questioned my identity. Life suddenly felt chaotic and confusing, full of uncertainty and constant mental calculations about bills, mortgage, earnings. The rebuilding has been uncomfortable at times, worrying and unpredictable, a real journey through the messy middle between what was and what might come next.

I became more aware of the abstract systems we are living in - abstract jobs, abstract living, abstract structures, abstract salaries often disconnected from nature and natural rhythms. Stepping away from that world left space to reflect and question what really mattered and how I wanted to live and work.

On the hardest days, a few simple things helped me; time in nature, genuine human connection, and hope.

During that early what now stage, a friend sent me Hope in the Darkness by Rebecca Solnit, one line stayed with me:

“Hope doesn’t erase grief; it sits beside it and says, ‘you can still go on.” Hope isn’t fluffy it’s essential, especially when life feels uncertain.

I also returned to painting, something long gone since A-level art. Working with my hands helped steady my thoughts, something started and finished. Small signs of progress when the bigger picture felt unclear.

Nature became a quiet guide through this time. Growth is rarely instant; so much of it happens unseen. One day on a familiar walk through the woods near my home, along a path I know so well, something caught my attention a gap in the hedge, a dark hollow I had never noticed before.

Without thinking, I wanted to crawl into it and let the world fall away for a moment. Not from fear, but from exhaustion the relentless rhythm of the past months and the pressure to keep moving forward. I imagined curling up like a small animal, sheltered and resting in that quiet space.

That hollow felt like a reminder that sometimes we need somewhere to pause, a place where time slows enough for us to gather ourselves before moving on.

I recently read a post by Zoe Hawkins, co-founder of In Good Company, about giving up her Duolingo streak. Small on the surface, yet what she shared spoke to something deeper, supporting people in the space between who they have been and who they are becoming, where identity loosens and certainty fades.

One line stayed with me:

"If this was my reaction to giving up a Duolingo streak, imagine the force of emotion involved in leaving a career that has formed part of someone’s identity for years. The struggle is real."

It really is.

Yet within that uncertainty, something new slowly began to take shape. Losing the familiar structure of employment created space to bring twenty-five years of experience into clearer focus.

While the path hasn’t been straightforward, the experience has deepened my understanding of change and my role in supporting others - holding space for reflection and change as people move through uncertainty toward something more grounded and alive, more attuned to the rhythms of the natural world.

If redundancy has touched your life, you may recognise that mix of fear and possibility, loss and quiet hope. I would love to hear what helped you find your footing and guided you forward.

For anyone seeking a space to step away from the world’s pace, I offer regenerative leadership, coaching and Forest School experiences in beautiful locations alongside wonderful practitioners. These nature-connected retreats and workshops are designed to slow life down and help you discover your own quiet hollow even if only for a moment.