As a sensitive person, there’s something about having a plan that is so enticing for me. The illusion of predictability and control settles my nerves—at least until I discover that the plan isn’t quite as glorious as I’d imagined it would be.
About a year ago, I embarked on a new phase of my career. Some people would call it a midlife crisis. But the truth is that I’ve changed my plans every few years since I graduated from college.
Sometimes those changes were dramatic: international relocation or switching professions. At other times, the changes have reflected subtler recalibrations based on the person I was becoming.
The planning I kicked off a year ago was more in the spirit of the latter. I didn’t want to burn down my professional life. I enjoy my clinical practice and absolutely love being self-employed. I was already building a meaningful writing practice and had published my first book, Wander and Delve, in 2023.
A year ago, I knew that I wanted my new plan for my work to include more of what aligns with my authentic self: time in nature, community with kindred spirits, and even more writing.
I knew I couldn’t get something new out of my career using the old ways I’ve adjusted my work life. The old plans and the familiar ways weren’t going to work.
No new job title. No additional education. No new employer (I’m not ready to give up being self-employed).
I knew that I couldn’t expect to get what I wanted by looking to organizations or standardized paths. You can’t expect broken systems to give you healthy resources, after all.
Instead, I’m doing fresh things that let me stretch out beyond my comfort zone, without becoming panicked or overwhelmed. And while it’s been challenging at time, it’s also been more fun than I expected.
Can fun be part of the plan?
That’s something I’d never considered. Perhaps I’m learning that the process of changing can be fun and inherently rewarding. Am I finally embracing the journey, not just the destination?
I hope so, because I know that if there’s a destination to my latest career shift, it’s still unclear to me. I see how the seeds I planted last year are starting to sprout. But it’s a little bit like I threw a handful of mystery seeds into the air. I recognize some of the sprouts. Others are foreign to me. Still more have yet to germinate, and I don’t necessarily know why.
In the past, this uncertainty would have registered as a sign that my plans were failing. And the pace? Oh good grief! I would never have believed I could feel content with a process that is taking over a year to unfold, with no clear end in sight. Yet I’m finding more and more patience with the process.
Okay, maybe it’s acceptance. I’m accepting the reality that this kind of change is slow, unpredictable, subject to forces outside my control. I’m not truly a fan of these conditions, but I’m accepting that they are reality.
And in some ways, I know that I’m more grounded now than in any other period of change. I feel aligned with the rhythms of nature, the seasons, the ways that organisms change.
It feels different, but that doesn’t make it wrong.
I feel the energy of spring in my life.
I’m sprouting in fresh ways, rooting into a world of rich connections that I’ve created for myself. I’m nurturing myself and allowing myself to rest. I’m stretching under the sun, taking shelter from the snow and wind, letting the rain drops dance on my scalp.
And what am I growing into? I’m not sure. In the past, that would have terrified me. Today, it registers as excitement, possibility, and even a bit of hope in the midst of the darkness around us.
I would love to have you join me on this journey. It gets lonely at times when we try to grow in these authentic but countercultural ways. But you don’t have to do it alone!
I’d argue that none of us can seed new growth by doing it alone.
I’ve done the trials. This is not a solo undertaking, as much as my introverted sensitive self has tried to do it that way.)
You need a community around you. Perhaps that sounds like too much right now. Trust your intuition. The sensitive community will wait for you.
But if a part of you is curious about what it might be like to connect with other sensitive people who are looking for an authentic path to the kind of growth they dream about, please check out my Sensitive Helpers Circle. I created this transformative 12-week community to help deeply compassionate, giving people get the kind of support they need to make a difference in the world without burning out or giving up.
This community is a place to be with people who truly get what it’s like to be a sensitive person. It’s also a safe space for people who are committed to stretching themselves to do things that are fresh, challenging, and aligned with what matters most to them.
All helpers are welcome—whether it’s your job, your role, or your spirit’s calling. My hunch is that for many of us, we’re helpers in all those capacities.
The Sensitive Helpers Circle launches March 19th. No one else will be enrolled after that day, because I know it’s easier to feel safe and take risks with a group of people you’ve gotten to know over time.
If you have questions, please get in touch with me by email or in Substack messaging. I’d love to help you explore whether this is the right time and the right community to support you.
Beautiful post Lori! Very relatable. I feel as though your experience is mirroring my own right now as I shift from an old paradigm that's worked for many years into a new paradigm which I've been wanting, but not willing to deal with the uncertainty and changes it would require. I'm having to deepen my faith and trust the process, along with the guidance I'm receiving, since I can only see what's in front of me and not the full outcome. I know in the end it will be well worth it, even if the pathway is occasionally unclear or confusing.
Lori, I'm intrigued by how aware you are of the subtle differences in your current change compared to previous ones. Wishing you all the best with your exciting evolution.