Spring break, break up
Seasons.
We liken so many things to seasons — sometimes because of the literal weather of that time in our lives, and sometimes because we’re trying to make sense of the beginnings and endings of situations, relationships, and roles.
It’s interesting how our human brains need to tie things together like that.
“This is a new season,” we say when someone shifts their mindset and starts moving through the world differently.
“With every season, there’s a beginning and an end,” we reflect when a relationship ends or a job that once aligned with our values becomes a hot mess of complexities, leaving us grasping for strands of meaning.
“We’re in Spring — time to bloom with new opportunities,” we declare when brave action starts to bear fruit.
And the thing is — it all makes sense when we say it or hear it, because we know how seasons work. We trust the rhythm.
On episode 19 of the Brown Heart Wellness podcast, Dr. Jeanette Mayse and I talked about the stories we tell ourselves — the narratives that shape our journeys. Sometimes, we need those narratives to survive the truth of a changing season. Sometimes, they help us make sense of things. But always, we have the power to reclaim our narrative in any season
Lately, I’ve been struggling with the realization that in two years, our youngest daughter will be off to life. Spring breaks — at least the scheduled kind — will be a thing of the past.
It hit me out of nowhere, during a casual conversation with my husband.
“In two years, we won’t have a planned spring break like this,” he said.
I smiled, but that sentence landed heavy. It felt like the beginning of a season shift — one I wasn’t quite ready for.
I had to pause and remind myself:
There’s no need to borrow worry from tomorrow.
Even though I’m in the thick of this “wind-down” season with her, doing all the senior year prep and day-to-day mom duties, that one sentence sent me spiraling into a what happens next? kind of space.
And maybe that’s the hardest part of any season shift — the gap between what’s ending and what’s coming next.
That liminal space where the old season made sense, but the new one hasn’t fully taken shape.
A big part of reclaiming your narrative is learning to sit in that gap.
It’s about braving the unknown — believing that not only can you survive what comes next, but that you might actually be able to turn it into an adventure.
It will come with highs. It will come with lows. But you’ve made it through every season before this one.
So I’ll ask you what I’ve been asking myself:
What narrative are you telling yourself about this season of your life?
Are you borrowing worry from the next season when there’s still beauty to gather in this one?
Check out Episode 19 of the Brown Heart Wellness podcast — Dr. Jeanette and I go deeper into this idea of narrative, seasons, and what it means to walk through change with open hands.
We’re working toward a goal of 500 listens — your support means the world.
Listen, share, and leave a review here: [Stop Carrying Stories that Aren’t Yours]
From my Brown Heart to yours,
– Samantha
Awesome post!! The thought 'There is no need to borrow worry from tomorrow' was particularly impactful—both insightful and timely. Thank you for sharing your perspective!!!