Small ways to care for yourself during transitions
What helps you in the in-between—when a familiar chapter has ended and your wings are still taking shape? For me, it’s finding small ways to take care of myself, even when I don’t know what comes next yet.
In my earlier blog about the Messy Middle, I used the image of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly to reflect on transition. I’m returning to that image here—not to celebrate the finished transformation, but to ask how we give ourselves grace, and care for ourselves while we’re growing into our new butterfly self.
Over the last five-plus years, I’ve navigated several personal and professional transitions: the sudden death of a significant person in my life, two career changes, and my daughter leaving for college to name just a few. These experiences are different, but each has brought me back to the question of how to be gracefully resilient. I’m sharing practices that help me in the moment—not because I have every answer, but because one of them may help you, too.
The practices offer different starting points depending on what is feeling hard. These are personal reflections, not mental health treatment advice. Take what feels useful and leave what doesn’t.
When a thought makes the future feel closed, I sometimes experiment with the word ‘yet.’ For example:
- ‘I don’t know which path is better’ becomes ‘I don’t know which path is better yet.’
- ‘I haven’t launched a new program’ becomes ‘I haven’t launched a new program yet.’
- ‘I can’t figure out the best way to handle this’ becomes ‘I haven’t figured out the best approach yet.’
For me, that small shift leaves room for possibility rather than making an unfinished step sound like a failure. It is not a promise about the outcome, and I don’t force it when it doesn’t fit.
When I feel overwhelmed and don’t know where to start, I make a list just for today—not my usual list for the whole week. If you know me, you know I have a weekly system I’ve used for years! I choose one manageable task or something I like doing, or both. The aim is to give myself a place to begin and see whether a little momentum follows.
When I’m feeling down, I try not to avoid the feeling. Sometimes I set an alarm for 15–20 minutes to think, write, or cry or just feel the feels—whatever gives me space to acknowledge what is there. For me, when the timer goes off it signals I made space for the feelings, not a deadline for being okay. If you watch the show, Shrinking on Apple TV, Alice does this regularly to help her with her grief after her mother died suddenly in a car accident.
When I feel stuck or find myself dwelling on what feels hard, I try to change my perspective. The perspective and gratitude practices below are invitations—not a requirement to find a silver lining or move on before I’m ready.
- Zoom in: When the bigger picture feels overwhelming, I choose a specific moment to attend to—time with my beautiful cat, Sunday, or another small positive part of my day, like going outside to feel the sun on my face and breath some fresh air. I savor the moment. The aim is not to solve the transition, but to make the next moment more manageable.
- Gratitude as a daily practice: A small moment of gratitude in the morning and evening helps me notice what is still good. I treat it as an invitation, not another obligation.
In the morning, before getting out of bed, I notice one thing I am grateful for: a friend’s kindness, my pet hanging close, or a place at home where I feel cozy. I choose whatever comes to mind.
At night, before going to sleep, I note one highlight from my day: an energizing conversation, a delicious dinner or treat, or a moment of clarity.
While your wings are taking shape, you don’t have to rush to spread them—or turn a difficult transition into another assignment. There is room to be in the space between who you’ve been and who you’re becoming, without knowing what comes next. I return to this question: ‘What is one thing I can do today to take care of myself?’ The answer changes from day to day and moment to moment. It may be rest, connection, a small task, or appreciating what I still have.
If any of this resonates, I’d welcome comments about what has helped you find your footing when the familiar falls away and what comes next isn’t clear yet.
