Building Resilience When Life Keeps Throwing Curveballs: A Conversation About Adaptation

About this Video:

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we handle it when the floor just... drops out.

I’m 73 now, and I’ve spent most of my life as a “business guy,” someone who knew how to fix things and move the needle. But then cancer happened. Then stepping away from my business happened. Suddenly, the path forward wasn’t just unclear—it felt like it had been erased.

I recently sat down with Jennie, a whole-person coach, to talk about this messy reality of transitions. We dug into those emotional stages we all hit: the dread of anticipation, the sharp sting of endings, and that long, confusing “messy middle” where nothing seems to make sense before the new beginning finally shows up.

If you’re in the middle of a major shift right now—maybe a loss, a career change, or just a general sense of being “stuck”—I suspect you’ll find some companionship in this video. I don’t have all the answers (I’m still navigating my own “middle,” to be honest), but I’ve realized that the growth usually happens right in the center of that discomfort.

Are you feeling like you’re stuck in that “messy middle” right now? It’s a disconcerting place to be, isn’t it?

Transcription:

Here’s something nobody tells you about. Life’s transitions. They don’t happen in a straight line. You don’t move cleanly from one phase to the next. You get stuck in the middle not knowing if you’re coming or going. I had a conversation recently with Jennie, a whole person coach who’s lived through more transitions than most people face in 10 lifetimes.

Her story got me thinking about my own journey, the cancer diagnosis, stepping back from business, wondering what comes next. We’re all in some kind of transition right now. Let’s talk about what that actually looks like.

Jennie grew up as a military kid. Her family moved every two to three years. Pack up, say goodbye.

Start over. Repeat. Most of us think stability is normal. Jennie learned that transition is normal. Change is constant. The hardest part wasn’t the logistics. It was the emotional work of ending one chapter and starting another every two years after having her first child, she was a teacher, then she had a child.

She tried returning to teaching. Then the recession hit. 18 job interviews, 18 rejections.

She was stuck in what transition experts call passage, that messy middle before the old life ending and the new one beginning. You know, something’s changing, but you can’t see where you’re headed.

What got her through?

She stopped asking, why is this happening to me? And started asking where am I meant to be?

The shift from fighting the transition to working with it changed everything.

Here’s what I’ve learned from my own transitions. In talking with Jennie, transitions have stages. Understanding where you are helps you know what you need.

The first stage is anticipation.

You know something’s coming, but you have more questions than the answers. That’s where I am with my cancer treatment.

The waiting is brutal because your brain craves certainty you can’t have.

Then comes ending. The old reality actually ends and the new one begins. There’s relief that the waiting is over, but also grief about what you’re leaving behind.

Next is passage.

The messy middle. This is where most people get lost. Nothing feels stable. Some days are okay. Some days are terrible.

You feel disoriented and wonder if you’ll ever get through it.

Finally, there’s a new beginning.

You’re establishing a new normal, but it rarely looks like what you expected.

Here’s the part nobody mentions. These stages aren’t linear.

You cycle back and forth.

You think you’re at a new beginning, and suddenly you’re pulled back into the past because everything has changed again.

So what do you do when you’re in the middle of a transition?

You name where you actually are, not where you think you should be, but where you actually are.

This gives you power to understand what the stage requires.

Stop fighting the transition.

Jennie learned this from all those childhood moves. I’m learning it now with cancer.

The uncertainty is part of the process, not a problem to solve.

But you need to build support before you need it.

Transitions are hard to navigate alone.

You need people who will sit with you in the mess without trying to fix everything.

Let yourself grieve what’s ending.

Even if what’s coming is better, you’re still losing something.

I’m grieving probably not skiing again, that loss is real.

We take it one step at a time.

You don’t need a five-year plan.

You need to know where your next small step is coming from today.

That might be one conversation tomorrow, one decision.

You see small steps add up.

I’m 73.

I’m dealing with double cancer.

Wondering what my new normal will look like.

I don’t have it figured out, but Jennie’s story reminds me that transitions are how we grow.

Every ending creates space for a beginning, even when we can’t see it yet.

If you’re in a transition right now, you’re not alone.

You don’t need to have it all figured out.

Just name where you are.

Work with the transition instead of fighting it and keep taking the next small step.

That’s how we navigate change, not perfectly, just honestly one step at a time.

You know, it is what it is, but we can move through it with more intention than we might’ve thought possible.

So if you’re going through a transition, why don’t you let me know where you are and how it makes you feel.

Hey, thanks a lot for watching this video today.

I hope to see you back here really soon.