The Decade of Transitions: Coffee, Uncertainty, Becoming and Unbecoming

There’s a tender unraveling that happens in our late 20s and early 30s — a decade we like to refer to as the decade of transitions. It just sort of sneaks up on you — somewhere between student loan payments, another wedding invitation, and babies on the way, you may have realized: life is no longer what you thought it would be.

You're drinking your second coffee of the morning, scrolling through texts you haven’t replied to, wondering when everything started feeling like too much. You used to have plans for who you’d be by now — where you’d live, what you’d do, who you’d love, how you’d feel. But now? Now it’s more like fog, an endless list of questions, and an even longer list of to-dos fueled by caffeine and questions.

Who am I becoming? Why does everything feel like it’s shifting? Why do I feel so behind—and also, somehow, like I’m running out of time? What if I never figure it out?

The Grief of Becoming (and Unbecoming)

No one talks about the grief that comes with growth, probably because its not the kind of grief you can name easily, like the loss of a loved one, but rather its a sense of slow, subtle losses that accumulate and calcify like sediment at the bottom of your soul.

Its the grief of friendships that quietly fade—not because anyone did anything wrong, but because life tugged you in different directions. The grief of outgrowing a city that once made you feel alive. The grief of saying goodbye to an identity that kept you safe. The grief of realizing you don’t actually want what you thought you wanted. The grief of becoming someone new, and unbecoming who you created yourself to be.

Why did no one tell us that becoming ourselves would require so much letting go.

Unraveling What Was

There is a sacred dismantling that takes place in these years. The beliefs you once clung to start to unravel: about success, marriage, parenthood, ambition, worth, purpose, and life itself. The things you inherited—from your culture, your family, your younger self—don’t fit anymore. They scratch, they weigh too much, they feel performative, or they simply no longer fit.

So you start to untangle, you begin to take inventory, you ask hard questions, you notice the places you’re abandoning yourself just to keep up. Maybe you feel lost, and you keep going and keep trying anyway because you've already invested so much into this.

It’s not always graceful. Sometimes it looks like sobbing in your car outside the grocery store. Sometimes it’s lying awake at 3 a.m., wondering if you’re the only one who feels this way. Sometimes it’s deleting everything off your dating apps and then redownloading them again the next morning. Sometimes it’s making decisions that don’t make sense on paper—but your gut tells you they’re necessary. And although it might seem messy, this is how we learn to trust ourselves.

When the Life You Built No Longer Fits

There comes a time—often in this decade—when the life you built starts to feel like a cage. You look around and realize: you’ve followed all the rules, checked the boxes, smiled on cue… and yet, you’re deeply unfulfilled, and your soul-level exhusted.

Maybe you thought the career would be enough, or the relationship, or the apartment in that cool part of the city. But now you feel it: the dissonance between what you thought you were supposed to want and what your soul is quietly aching for.

These are the moments that change everything (if we let them). Because now, you can’t un-know what you know, you can’t unknow that your job drains you, you can’t unknow that you’re lonely in your relationship, you can’t unknow that you're craving more stillness, or more adventure, more depth, more alivness. You can’t unknow the call to make your life your own. It’s terrifying, it's liberating, and its the beginning of something new.

The Weight of "Figuring It Out"

The pressure to “figure it all out” by 30 is crushing. The arbitrary timelines we’ve internalized—finding the one, getting married, buying a house, having a baby, being debt-free, reaching someone elses version of success—and it doesn't leave much space for nuance or becoming.

And yet, life rarely moves in straight lines. Some people find their person at 24, and others at 41. Some people change careers three times before they feel aligned. Some move across the world with nothing but a backpack, and some return to their childhood hometowns and find new meaning there.

There is no one-size-fits-all path to fulfillment. And yet, we hold ourselves hostage to the myth of perfect timing and tidy progress. This decade invites us to soften our grip, to let go of timelines that don’t reflect the truth of who we are and to honour the slow becoming.

Money, Mess, and Adulting

Let’s be real. This decade isn’t just existential—it’s logistical. Many of us are navigating financial strain, healing money wounds, and dealing with debts no one warned us would hang around this long. We’re trying to pay rent, buy groceries, contribute to retirement funds (???), heal our bodies with supplements that costa fortune, and somehow also take care of our mental health.

We’re balancing freedom and responsibility, dreams and deadlines, burnout and ambition.

We’re learning how to advocate for ourselves at work. We’re googling “how to start investing in Canada” at midnight. We’re figuring out how to feed ourselves something other than toast and takeout. We’re wondering if everyone else is just better at pretending they have it together.

Spoiler: they don’t. We’re all just trying to figure it out.

Lost Friendships & Shifting Circles

This decade can also feel lonely and isolating in a way no one warned us about. The people you once called every day might now feel like strangers. Maybe they chose a different kind of life. Maybe you just drifted. Maybe one of you grew and the other didn’t. Maybe there was no dramatic falling out—just a quiet parting of ways, and yet it hurts just the same. It’s normal, but that doesn't mean its easy.

Your circle might get smaller, but it also gets more sacred. You start to crave depth over quantity. You learn to listen for reciprocity. You seek out friendships that make you feel safe, seen, and silly. You begin to notice who loves you for your becoming—not just who you were or who they think you should be.

The Becoming Is the Point

Here’s what we want you to know, if you’re in the thick of it:

You are not behind, you are not broken, and you are not alone. This time isn’t about getting it all right—it’s about getting real. It’s about learning how to come home to yourself in the midst of change. It’s about practicing grace in the in-between spaces. It’s about saying goodbye to who you thought you’d be and learning to love who you’re becoming. There’s no map, but there is meaning.

There’s meaning in the questions, in the losses, in the shaky beginnings. There’s meaning in your ache for more. There’s meaning in your courage to keep showing up, even when you don’t have all the answers.

You’re allowed to grieve and grow at the same time.

You’re allowed to change your mind, a million times over if you have to.

You’re allowed to want a different kind of life—and to take your time creating it.

This is the sacred, messy, beautiful work of becoming.

And if no one has told you lately—You’re doing a good job, a really good job.

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.