When the Adventure Hits a Wall (And You Remember You're Human)
I had a meltdown last week. Not a little one either. The full 3 a.m., staring-at-the-ceiling, what-have-I-done kind that makes you question every choice you've made in the past six months.
Here's what happened. I made this beautiful, brave decision to put all my belongings in storage and step into what I've been calling my"2026 Adventure."Exciting, right? Liberating. A leap into whatever comes next.
And then, one week before I was supposed to start packing, the doubts showed up like uninvited guests at a dinner party.
It started small. A few disappointments landed in quick succession. A call that never came. Plans that shifted without warning. A connection I'd been hopeful about that quietly dissolved into silence. Each one felt manageable on its own, but together they activated that old, familiar voice:See? Not enough. Never enough.
Within 48 hours, I went from"I'm doing something bold and beautiful"to "Why am I leaving this perfect little perch on the 18th floor where I've been safe and comfortable?"
My brother, currently counting penguins in Antarctica, had said a few weeks earlier,"I'm so glad you're moving out of Bellevue!"What does he know? He's literally sleeping on ice. But one morning as I watched the sun rise over the Cascades, his words echoed back. And I realized I'd become very comfortable here. So comfortable that leaving felt like abandoning myself.
My girlfriend, the same one from last week'sBlue Parka story,showed up at 5 p.m. with wine and the kind of steady presence that says,"I'm not fixing this. I'm just here."She listened. I unraveled. I felt better.
But the next morning, the weight was still there. So I got curious instead of critical. What's really going on here, Michèle?
And that's when it hit me. I wasn't afraid of the move. I was grieving.
In the six years I've lived in this space, I lost both my parents. Two years apart. One breath at a time, I watched them leave. I ended a career to start my own business. I said goodbye to Izzy, my sweet dog and constant companion. I ended a relationship that had run its course.
And what did I do after each loss? I left. Ten days after my mom died, I was in Croatia, venturing around in the mountains of Bosnia and Hertzgovinia. Then Southern California for a stretch. Then Paris for New Year's. Then Venice, wandering cobblestone streets with no plan, no map, just motion. I came home and launched into building my business without coming up for air.
I thought I was just moving forward. Turns out, I was also moving away.
So I pulled out myVIVID³ plan,the one I'd written for this very move, and I sat with it. I looked at my values, my intentions, my vision for what I wanted this transition to feel like. And I realized I'd been white-knuckling my way through, trying to prove I could do this alone, when what I really needed was to let myself feel what I'd been running from for years.
Here's what I know now. Sometimes the meltdown is the breakthrough. Sometimes falling apart is how you finally let yourself feel what you've been too afraid, or too busy, to feel.
Maybe you're reading this and thinking, that's me. I've been running too. Maybe you've been so busy proving you're fine that you haven't let yourself admit you're not. Maybe you're standing at the edge of your own big change, a move, a divorce, a career shift, a relationship ending, and you're wondering if you have what it takes.
The wobble doesn't mean you're failing.It means you're human. The doubt doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're paying attention. The grief doesn't mean you're stuck. It means you're finally letting yourself feel. And that's where the real transformation begins.
I'm still moving forward with my Adventure. The storage unit is booked. The house-sits are lined up. TheVIVID³ planis still my compass. But now I'm doing it differently. I'm not running from the grief anymore. I'm letting it walk beside me. I'm not performing "brave." I'm being honest. And I'm trusting that the life I'm stepping into has room for all of me. The messy parts. The grieving parts. The parts that are still learning to believe they're enough.
Because they are. And so are you.
If you'd like to see how I used theVIVID³ frameworkto navigate this transition and create your own guide for your next chapter, I'm happy to share it with you.
You can find it here >VIVID³ framework
Love and Light,
Michèle
P.S.If you're navigating your own transition and need someone to help you see what's really underneath the fear, let's talk. Sometimes the wisest thing we can do is ask for support before the meltdown arrives.
Schedule a free call with me here >Let's Chat!
Link to my personal move VIVID plan >>https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RcSROQCwHFgbaFoPWGqH11WtQd4xGYu2CmrqQ6m8tlM/edit?usp=sharing
