Rooted in Transition

What My Body Is Teaching Me About Change

Over the past few months, life has been full in the very best ways. My daughter graduated from college, and I've been helping her settle into this next chapter. My son graduated from high school, and in just a few weeks, we'll be packing him up for college. Somewhere in between, we've started talking about wedding plans for my daughter next year.

Professionally, I've found myself stepping into a new season as well. I'm spending more time teaching, mentoring practitioners, and creating new spaces where women can learn and grow together. These are all things I've waited for. Things I've celebrated. Things I've looked forward to.

So it caught me off guard when my body seemed to recognize I was in a season of transition before my mind did. Have you ever experienced something like that? Maybe nothing feels "wrong," but you notice you're sleeping differently. Your digestion feels a little off. You're more emotional than usual. You're forgetting simple things or feeling like your brain has too many tabs open. You start wondering what's going on.

When Beautiful Things Stretch Us

As a Functional Nutrition & Lifestyle Practitioner, I spend a lot of time helping clients understand that our bodies are constantly adapting to what's happening around us. We often think of stress as something dramatic: a difficult diagnosis, the loss of a loved one, or a major crisis. But our bodies don't only respond to difficult change. They respond to meaningful change, too. Even joyful transitions require us to adapt. And adaptation takes energy.

One of the concepts we talk about in functional nutrition is something called allostatic load. It's simply a way of describing the wear and tear that can happen when our bodies are continually adapting to life's demands. It's rarely one big thing. More often, it's the accumulation of many smaller things. A changing schedule. Different routines. Extra decisions. More emotions to process. Less quiet than usual...or, in my case lately, beginning to notice that there soon will be much more quiet than there has been for the last twenty-two years.

None of those things are inherently bad. But they still ask something of us. Our nervous system notices. Our hormones notice. Our digestion notices. Sometimes before we do. I think that's one of the reasons I love functional nutrition so much. It reminds us that the body is always communicating. Not complaining. Not betraying us. Communicating.

Your Body Notices Before You Do

I've also been paying closer attention to some of the quieter ways my body has been responding to this season.

There have been mornings when my appetite wasn't quite the same. Days when my mind felt more scattered than usual. Moments when I realized I was holding tension in my shoulders without even noticing.

None of those things lasted. None of them were alarming. But they were reminders.

Our nervous system is always paying attention to what's happening around us. When life changes (even in beautiful ways) our brain naturally starts scanning for what comes next. That can influence our cortisol rhythm, our digestion, our sleep, our energy, and even how much emotional bandwidth we have available.

This doesn't mean something is wrong with us. It means our bodies are adapting. I find that incredibly reassuring. Because so many women I work with assume they're failing when they notice these shifts.

"I should be handling this better."

"I shouldn't be so tired."

"I don't know why I feel so emotional."

Sound familiar? What if those weren't signs of failure? What if they were simply signs that your body is working hard to help you navigate change?

Permission to Feel the Season You're In

A few weeks ago, I developed a lingering cough. I wasn't really sick. It just...stayed. Around the same time, I was dealing with some tightness through my diaphragm, so I scheduled a physical therapy appointment.

As she worked, our conversation drifted away from muscles and breathing and toward everything this season has been holding. My kids. The upcoming changes. The excitement. The unknown.

At one point, she asked if I had given myself permission to grieve. I remember thinking, Grieve? Nothing bad has happened. These are all wonderful things. But then she gently reminded me that grief isn't reserved only for tragedy. Sometimes we grieve because something meaningful is changing. That conversation stayed with me.

She also mentioned that some healing traditions, including Traditional Chinese Medicine, describe a relationship between the lungs, the breath, and experiences of grief or letting go. Whether you view that through the lens of Traditional Chinese Medicine, nervous system physiology, or simply the mind-body connection, I found it to be an interesting invitation to become curious about what my body might be trying to tell me.

So I gave myself permission to cry. Not because I felt broken. Not because I needed fixing. Simply because I realized I had been carrying this season without really slowing down to feel it. And over the next couple of days, something interesting happened. The cough disappeared.

Now, I'm not suggesting tears are a treatment for coughs. Bodies are wonderfully complex, and there are many reasons symptoms improve. But the experience reminded me of something I've seen over and over again, in my own life and in the lives of my clients. Sometimes our bodies carry things that our minds haven't fully processed yet. Sometimes what we need isn't another supplement. Or another lab test. Sometimes what we need is a little more space to listen.

Healing Begins with Understanding

I think that's one of the biggest lessons this season has been teaching me. Transition doesn't ask us to push harder. It asks us to pay closer attention. To eat nourishing meals, even when we're busy. To prioritize sleep whenever we can. To take a walk. To breathe a little deeper. To ask for help. To build moments of stillness into days that feel full. To remember that caring for our bodies isn't something we do after life settles down. It's one of the ways we move through change well.

Our bodies are designed with an incredible capacity to adapt. But they are also designed to need rhythms of rest, nourishment, connection, and renewal. When we ignore those needs for too long, our bodies have a way of getting our attention. Not to punish us. But to invite us back. Back to paying attention. Back to caring for ourselves. Back to understanding what our bodies have been trying to communicate all along.

Staying Rooted

As I've watched my children step into adulthood, I've realized that I'm stepping into a new season too. Not because I'm leaving behind who I've always been. But because life is gently asking me to grow into something new.

I have a feeling many of you are in seasons like that as well. Maybe your children are leaving home. Maybe you're caring for aging parents. Maybe you're navigating a health diagnosis. Maybe your career is changing. Maybe you're walking through perimenopause or menopause. Maybe you're simply asking yourself what this next chapter is meant to look like.

The details may be different. But transition has a way of making us all ask similar questions. How do I stay grounded while everything around me is changing? How do I care for myself when so much feels uncertain? How do I move forward without rushing through what's right in front of me?

I don't have all the answers. I'm still learning. But I do know this:

Healing begins with understanding. Sometimes that understanding starts with listening to our bodies instead of pushing past them. Sometimes it starts by recognizing that our symptoms aren't always signs that something is wrong, they may simply be signs that something is changing. And sometimes, the healthiest thing we can do is give ourselves permission to move through a season instead of trying to hurry to the other side.

Over the past several months, that's exactly what I've been exploring...not only in my own life, but in conversations with many of the women I have the privilege of working with. It's also what inspired me to begin creating something new for women called Rooted in Transition. I'll be sharing more about it in the coming weeks, and I can't wait to invite you into that conversation. Until then, my hope is simply this:

Whatever season you're walking through, may you remember that your body is not working against you. It may simply be asking you to slow down long enough to hear what it's has been trying to say all along. And maybe that's what staying rooted really looks like. Not resisting change. But allowing ourselves to be nourished, supported, and deeply grounded as we grow through it.