Change vs. Transition: How to Thrive Through Life’s Uncertain Seasons

Change is one of the few constants in life. It’s always arriving—sometimes quietly, like the whent the leaves change in the fall, and sometimes like a storm, fast and furious, with no time to prepare. And yet, no matter how familiar it is, change rarely feels easy. It rattles our nervous system, shakes up our foundation, and sometime even pulls the rug from under our carefully laid plans, and invites us—often without our consent—into unfamiliar terrain.

In session, in the forest, in grief circles and in quiet moments alone, I’ve witnessed again and again the dance we do with change: the resistance, the surrender, the grief, and the growth.

Change asks so much of us—and it also gives us much in return. In this post, we’ll explore the nature of change, why we resist it, how it's different from transition, and how we can support ourselves through the uncertainty it brings.

Why Do We Resist Change?

(It’s not just you. It’s your brain, your body, your biology).

Change can feel threatening—not because it always is, but because of how we’re wired. As human beings, we are primally attuned to seek safety, predictability, and control. Our nervous systems are constantly scanning for danger, and anything unfamiliar—no matter how exciting or positive—our bodies may still register change as a threat.

On a physiological level, change often disrupts our sense of “normal,” which triggers a stress response in the body. Cortisol and adrenaline rise, the amygdala (the brain’s alarm system) lights up, and we may enter into fight, flight, freeze, or fawn—not because the change is harmful, but because it’s unknown.

Biologically, this makes sense. In early human history, unpredictability could mean death: an unexpected storm, a migration of prey, a shift in tribal dynamics. Our ancestors who survived were the ones who responded quickly to change—but also cautiously. Their bodies learned that familiarity = safety. We've inherited that wisdom, but in a modern context, it often makes navigating life’s natural transitions feel overwhelming.

Emotionally, we also resist change because it often requires letting go: of people, identities, routines, dreams, or versions of ourselves that once fit but no longer do. This letting go brings grief, and grief—while sacred—is something many of us were never taught how to hold.

The Necessity of Change

(To be human is to evolve).

Despite our resistance, change is not only inevitable—it’s necessary. Nature teaches us this over and over again. The moon waxes and wanes. Seeds sprout, bloom, decay, and return to the earth. Rivers carve new paths. Nothing stays static. To live is to change.

As humans, we are always becoming. From infancy to adolescence to adulthood, our bodies, beliefs, and relationships evolve. Even on a cellular level, we are regenerating constantly. The skin you’re in today is not the same skin you had seven years ago.

But beyond biology, change is how we grow. It invites us into new ways of seeing, loving, and being. It challenges our attachments. It initiates us into new layers of self. The changes we most fear often become the very soil from which our resilience, clarity, and compassion bloom.

To resist change is to resist life. To embrace it—however messy it may be—is to say yes to the full spectrum of being human.

Change vs. Transition

(Change is the event. Transition is the process).

It’s important to distinguish between change and transition.

• Change is what happens to us. It’s the external shift, the "moment": the breakup, the move, the new job, the death, the diagnosis, the baby, the wedding, the “I can’t do this anymore.” It often feels like a line in the sand, a before and after.

• Transition, on the other hand, is the internal process of adjusting to that change. It’s the liminal space—the messy, murky middle where we’re no longer who we were, but not yet who we are becoming. It’s emotional. It’s psychological. And it takes time (sometimes more time then we feel comfortable with).

You might leave a relationship in one day, but the transition of learning to live alone, rediscovering yourself, and trusting again may take months or years.

Understanding this difference matters, because socially and culturally, we often expect people to bounce back quickly after change. But transformation doesn’t happen on a tidy timeline. Transition is where the real work—and the real beauty—often lives.

Honouring the Grief of Change

(Even good change brings loss).

Every change, even a positive one, includes some form of loss.

Getting married might mean losing freedom, or a sense of "me" as you shift to "we". Becoming a parent might mean losing quiet mornings. Leaving a toxic job might mean losing financial stability. Moving to your dream home might mean leaving behind familiar streets, neighbors, or memories.

We don’t talk enough about the grief that lives inside change. We’re quick to encourage people to “look on the bright side” or “trust the process,” without making space for the real, raw feelings that accompany letting go.

But grief is not the enemy of growth. It is its companion.

Grieving what we’re leaving behind is a sacred act of love. It helps us integrate what mattered, honour the stories that shaped us, and clear space for what’s coming. When we allow ourselves to feel the grief of change, we also open ourselves to its gifts. When we resist the grief, we often feel like we are stuck between two worlds - what was, and what is.

How to Support Yourself Through Seasons of Change

1. Normalize the discomfort.

Change is supposed to feel disorienting. It doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human. When life feels tender and messy, remind yourself: This is part of it, and it all belongs.

2. Name what you’re grieving.

Even if you chose the change, there may be parts of you aching for what once was or what will never be. Write it down. Speak it out loud. Say goodbye. Ritualize the endings. Make space for your tears.

3. Tend to your nervous system.

Change can activate your stress response. Grounding practices help regulate the body so your mind and heart can catch up. Go for slow walks. Breathe deeply. Connect to yourself through meditation and gentle reminders. Take warm baths. Spend time with safe people. Let your body know it’s safe to soften.

4. Let go of the timeline.

There is no “right” time, or speed for processing change. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Trust that integration takes time—and that who you’re becoming will emerge in its own time, and its own way.

5. Find or create meaning.

Viktor Frankl (A Man's Search for Meaning) said, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”

Ask yourself: What is this change inviting me into? What is it teaching me about what I value, what I need, who I want to be?

6. Ask for support.

We’re not meant to navigate transitions alone. Share your story with someone who can hold it gently. Seek therapy. Join a group. Let yourself be witnessed.

7. Create anchors.

In times of great change, create small consistencies: a warm cup of tea, your monring coffee, a deep breath, a nature walk, or a few quiet minutes with a journal or a tree. These little rituals can tether us when everything else feels like it’s in motion. It's often the small and seemingly simple rituals that help us stay anchored when everything else feels unstable and uncertain.

You don't need a perfect morning orutine, or a perfectly regulated nervous system. You just need a moment, space to pause, and a way to come back to yourself again and agin.

7. Start small. Go slowly.

Grief asks a lot of us, but it doesnt ask us to do it all at once. SUstainable support begins with small, repeatable acts of care.

Thriving Through Uncertainty

(The invitation inside change).

Thriving through change doesn’t mean bypassing the pain, the fear, or the grief. It means learning how to be in relationship with uncertainty—how to stay open, even when things feel shaky.

There is aliveness in the unknown. Possibility lives there, too.

When we can trust that change is part of life’s rhythm, we don’t need to fear it. Instead, we can meet it with reverence. We can walk alongside it, heart open, hands soft, eyes wide to what might be emerging.

The truth is, we don’t always know what’s on the other side of change. But we don’t need to know everything to take the next step.

We just need to remember that we’ve survived every past ending, and that we are allowed to begin again.

Final Thoughts: Change as an Initiation

What if we viewed change not as a disruption—but as a sacred initiation? What if each season of transition was an invitation to deepen our relationship to life, to self, to soul?

Change isn’t something to master or control, it’s something to partner with. It invites us to listen more closely, to let go more gently, and to live more presently.

So if you’re in a season of change—welcome. You’re not alone. May you honour the grief, lean into the mystery, and trust that even now, especially now, something new is quietly unfolding within you.

About Us:

Weaving Grief specializes in compassionate grief therapy for individuals navigating loss of any kind - death, breakups, relationship transitions, chronic illness, loss of self, and more. By addressing these profound experiences, Weaving Grief empowers clients to grieve freely and live fully. Through somatic practices and meaningful reflection, we’re here to help you navigate these tender moments and rediscover the fullness of life.

Specific areas of focus: death of a loved one (recent or past), life changing transitions, relationship transitions and break ups, pregnancy loss, grief around family planning, chronic illness, loss of Self, and supporting entrepreneurs through the grief that comes with growth.

To learn more about Our Team or to book a session, click here.