Grace yourself: 3 strategies to adapt to big changes
Change used to feel like something I could manage with a list or detailed plan. Something I could “control”.
But somewhere along the way — maybe after a few too many curveballs in too short a time — I realized adapting to change isn’t just about getting organized or making a to-do list. It’s about acknowledging what’s changing, taking honest action, and giving yourself some grace along the way.
Why Change Feels So Hard Now
Because here’s the thing: change fatigue is real.
Since the onset of COVID-19 and the global pandemic — if not sooner — many of us have experienced a lot of change or have been forced to pivot. And collectively, we haven’t had a real chance to move through transitions, sometimes several in a short period of time, without stopping to actually process what’s shifting.
Shifts in how we work. How we rest. How we connect.
Shifts in our values. Our energy. Our expectations of what life was supposed to look like by now.
Shifts in who we are — and who we no longer feel the need to be.
Maybe you feel it at work, in your business, or just in life.
Too much transition changes how your brain works. Even if you’re used to “handling it” or being the one others rely on, your body keeps score. Your body remembers.
Your nervous system still responds. And if you're feeling a level of low-grade exhaustion, irritability, or brain fog, that might not be burnout from doing too much. That might be your system trying to process everything – and it has become too much.
So if you’re in the thick of it right now, navigating a change you chose – one you didn’t – or maybe just sensing that something is shifting, this is for you.
What I’ve learned from my own transitions — and from helping others move through theirs without unnecessary chaos – is that real, sustainable change involves three things:
Recognize: Self-awareness comes first
Respond: Practice leads to progress
Regulate: Safety makes change sustainable
Let’s break that down.
Recognize
Self-awareness comes first
This is the clarity that helps you make peace with what’s shifting.
Let’s start here:
According to the Agile Leadership Institute, our brains are wired to minimize threat and maximize reward. Which means your brain doesn’t just dislike change — it perceives change as a threat, even when it’s good.
It’s biology. It’s wiring. Our brains are trying to keep us safe, and safety looks like predictability. When routines get disrupted or roles shift or relationships evolve, your brain doesn't automatically say, "Yes! A growth opportunity! Just what I wanted!" It often says, "Alert! Danger! Unknown object. Protect."
And if you’ve been under prolonged stress (and you most likely have), your brain’s ability to process and adapt can get foggy. When multiple changes stack on top of each other — a layoff, a move, a health scare, or even just a series of micro-stressors — it can feel like trauma. Because your nervous system is overwhelmed.
That’s worth repeating: your nervous system is not just reacting to the “size” of the change – but the impact. It’s responding to the weight of all the changes layered on top of one another. That’s why things that look “small” on paper – and to others – can still feel so heavy for you.
So before you start being too hard on yourself for “not handling it better,” take a moment to pause. You’re human. You’re built for change, but not without support. Not without integration. And definitely not without pause.
When everything’s shifting, remind yourself:
You’re allowed to outgrow what once fit. What used to serve you might not anymore. The job that once felt exciting, the role you once worked hard to earn, the identity that made sense at 25 — it’s okay if it no longer fits. That’s not a crisis; that’s a signal.
You don’t need a 5-year plan. You need alignment and a little momentum. Trying to “figure it all out” can keep you paralyzed. Sometimes the best move is the next honest one, for YOU. Clarity often follows action — not the other way around.
Resistance doesn’t always mean “stop” — sometimes it just means “pay attention”. Discomfort isn’t always a red flag. Sometimes it's a sign you’re stretching. Expanding. Getting real about your values. It’s okay if it feels unfamiliar — you’re not lost, you’re evolving.
You can pivot without explanation. Especially when something no longer feels like home. You don’t owe anyone a dissertation about why you’re changing. You don’t have to announce it. If it’s no longer aligned, you’re allowed to choose something different — even if others don’t get it.
Transitions take energy. Emotional labor is real. Give yourself time. We don’t talk enough about the cost of change. It requires emotional bandwidth, decision-making power, and rest. Give yourself the room to feel the impact — not just push through it.
💡 Acknowledge the stress — and stop gaslighting yourself for feeling it. Being honest with yourself is important. Your feelings aren’t a problem to fix. They’re data. Data is information. And when you make room to name them, you stop fighting yourself, and start taking steps that makes change more doable and palatable.
Respond
Practice leads to progress
This is the behavior that builds your capacity for change.
Once you’ve named what’s happening, it’s time to shift from overthinking to intentional action. And I don’t mean diving headfirst into reinvention. I’ve tried reinventing my life overnight several times. It doesn’t work that way.
I mean tuning into what’s actually sustainable — based on your values, energy, and capacity.
But you don’t have to change every single thing all at once. And not all change needs to happen out loud.
Sometimes change begins quietly. In how you tell the truth to yourself. In what you stop pretending to like. In what you no longer chase. That’s the kind of change that sticks — because it’s rooted in reality, not reaction.
So if you’ve been feeling stuck or spiraling or unsure of where to begin, start small. Here’s what helps:
Make space to reflect. You can’t move intentionally if you’re not present to what’s true.
That could look like journaling. Sitting in silence. Talking with someone who reflects your clarity back to you. Give yourself space to process — not just produce.Identify what’s no longer working. Internally and externally. What habits, roles, relationships, or beliefs are keeping you stuck? What expectations (your own or someone else’s) are weighing you down? Get curious, not judgmental.
Reconnect with your values. Not what looks good on paper, but what feels like home. This is what keeps your decisions rooted. When you know what matters to you — really matters — it’s easier to say no without guilt and yes without over-explaining.
Experiment without pressure. Small steps build big trust. Try things on. Test the idea. Play. The pressure to “have it all figured out” will keep you paralyzed. Permission to try keeps you moving.
Let go of “shoulds”. Especially the ones rooted in other people’s expectations. If you’re living by someone else’s rules, your change will always feel misaligned. This is your life — not a performance. Releasing the “shoulds” is how you come home to yourself.
💡Learn your change tolerance. Some people can switch jobs, move cities, and start a podcast in the same month. Others need slower, layered shifts. Neither is wrong — but knowing your pace can keep you out of burnout and in integrity.
Understanding your change tolerance is about learning what your body, brain, and spirit need in order to feel safe and steady. Maybe you need a six-month runway instead of six weeks. Maybe you do better with one major change per quarter. The point is this: You don’t need to match anyone else’s pace. You just need to honor your own.
Regulate
Safety makes change sustainable
This is the emotional foundation that makes change sustainable.
Here’s the part we don’t talk about enough: most people don’t resist change because they’re lazy or unmotivated. They resist change because they don’t feel safe — emotionally, culturally, financially, or relationally.
When the stakes feel high, when the outcome is uncertain, when you’ve been burned before, you might hesitate. You might freeze or fawn or try to control the chaos. That’s not dysfunction. That’s protection. That’s your nervous system’s response and attempt to find safety.
And when you're used to holding it all together for everyone else, it can feel vulnerable to admit that you need softness too. That you’re tired of being strong.
So many of us were taught to lead through logic and perform through perfection. But real, sustainable change happens when you feel safe enough to be — not just to do.
Here’s what you may need to feel in order to move forward:
Safe enough to not know everything. You don’t have to be 100% confident. Just grounded enough to try. There is no such thing as “ready” — not in the way we imagine. You’ll probably feel a little unsure. That’s okay. Courage isn’t the absence of doubt — it’s the willingness to move with it.
Worthy of ease and flow. Every transition doesn’t need to come from crisis. Struggle doesn’t make it more meaningful. Burnout doesn’t make it more valid. You’re allowed to shift with grace, not just grit.
Seen. In your complexity and multi-layers. Not just the polished version of you. The full you. Change is messy. It’s both grief and relief. You don’t have to pick one emotion — you’re allowed to hold the whole spectrum.
Connected, not isolated. Community, representation, resonance — these things matter. Whether it’s a friend, a mentor, a therapist, or your own inner knowing, you need something that hold you down you while you evolve.
Hopeful. Change that’s rooted in possibility lasts longer than change driven by panic. Urgency can be a trauma response. And sometimes, the best gift you can give yourself is to breathe. To imagine new outcomes. And a future.
💡 Create a soft place to land. Whether that’s a faith practice, a therapist, a journal, or a friend — you need spaces that hold you while you’re in-between.
Transition is a process. And processes require containers. Safety. Reflection. Rest.
Let This Be Your Reminder
Start where you are. Notice what’s shifting. Give yourself room to respond without rushing.
And make sure you have the support you need to stay steady while things move around you. This season might feel uncertain — but it doesn’t have to be chaotic.
You get to move differently this time. With more clarity. More care. And more self-trust.
If you’re ready for a next step, I created a free Transition Guide to help you get started. You can download it here.
