The change from summer to fall is always noticeable. The long, loose days give way to structure and the school buses return. And if you live in a seasonal area like me, the crowds fade 
too and so does the energy. For parents, this shift is more than just swapping flip-flops for routines it’s often a deeper reminder of change. Kids head back to school, some off to college, and suddenly the calendar that once overflowed with practices, carpools, and parent meetings looks strangely empty.
too and so does the energy. For parents, this shift is more than just swapping flip-flops for routines it’s often a deeper reminder of change. Kids head back to school, some off to college, and suddenly the calendar that once overflowed with practices, carpools, and parent meetings looks strangely empty.It’s in these transitions when the noise quiets and the pace slows that many of us find ourselves face-to-face with the in-between of change.
A Story on the Shore
I looked over and saw her sitting quietly on the beach. She was hard to miss. The usual summer crowd had thinned, but there she was still, thoughtful, her energy almost visible. My heart went out to her because that look, that heaviness, was familiar.
It wasn’t just the season shifting from the high energy of summer to the crispness of fall. It was something deeper. The kids going back to school, some leaving for college. The cooler air, shorter days. The golden hour that once lingered until 7 now slipping away before 6. I went over to say hello. As soon as we started talking, I could see it in her face: sadness mixed with pride, joy intertwined with loss.
She told me she was an empty nester for the first time. All of her kids were now away at college, not just hours away but states away. As excited as she was for them planning logistics, packing cars, celebrating their summer days with friends the distractions were over. Now it was quiet. And with the quiet came the ache. She blurted it out without hesitation: “Now I have to go back to a job I hate.” Her happy place summers with her family, her parents, and friends was ending. And what she was left with wasn’t just an empty house, but an empty-feeling routine.
Even now, with one son fully launched and the other coming and going for years, I recognize the look she carried. The seasonal shift still brings it up for me, too. The silence is both unsettling and illuminating. It strips away the distractions and makes space for awareness. And awareness, while uncomfortable, is the very beginning of change.
The Space Between Endings and Beginnings
Transitions are tricky because they contain both endings and beginnings. One chapter closes, and even if another is opening, it doesn’t always happen at the same pace. That in between space the pause between what was and what’s next is where we can feel most unmoored.
For parents, it can look like:
- Learning to step back while your kids step forward.
- Feeling proud of their independence but lonely in your own days.
- Realizing how much of your identity has been tied to being “needed.”
- Losing the structure that once kept you constantly busy and wondering who you are without it.
And this isn’t just about parenting. That in-between space shows up in career changes, health shifts, divorce, retirement, or even in the quieter moments when you realize you’ve been running on autopilot for too long. Whenever a role ends whether it’s raising children, closing a chapter in work, or saying goodbye to the familiar it leaves behind a silence. And it’s in that silence that the questions about who you are now begin to surface.
Why the Silence Feels So Loud
When the kids are home, or the calendar is full, or the distractions are plenty, we don’t always notice what’s missing. We stay busy, productive, needed. But once the noise fades, the silence starts to speak.
That silence can sound like:
- I’ve been doing what was expected, but what do I want now?
- This role is ending… but who am I without it?
- If I don’t love this job, this routine, this version of me then what’s next?
Silence forces us inward. And that is often the hardest place to go.
The Courage to Look Inward
Awareness is the foundation for everything. Without it, we drift. With it, we begin to steer our own course. But self-awareness requires an inward focus and that’s a difficult concept in modern society. We are constantly pulled outward by obligations, noise, and stimulation. For many, it feels easier to stay busy than to look inward and risk finding truths we’ve been avoiding.
Some people are even afraid of what they’ll uncover: dissatisfaction, regret, longing. So they keep moving, keep distracting, keep silencing that small voice that only speaks in stillness.
Yet self-awareness is critical. Without it, we can’t move forward in the right direction. With it, we can choose differently. Awareness is what transforms loss into possibility, endings into beginnings, and uncertainty into opportunity.
The Invitation Hidden in Change
The emptiness you feel when roles shift isn’t a void to be feared. It’s an invitation.
- An invitation to pause before rushing back into busyness.
- An invitation to reflect on who you’ve become and who you want to be.
- An invitation to reconnect with parts of yourself that were put on hold.
- An invitation to ask: What lights me up now?
Fall reminds us that letting go is part of the rhythm of life. The leaves drop, the sun fades earlier, the air sharpens and still, there’s beauty. Change is not just an ending. It’s also a doorway.
Moving Through the In-Between
Here are a few gentle practices for navigating these seasons:
- Name it. Simply acknowledging that you’re in transition can bring relief. You’re not broken. You’re shifting.
- Let both exist. Grief and gratitude, loss and excitement — they can coexist. Don’t rush to force one over the other.
- Reclaim time. What once went to others can now return to you. Even 30 minutes a day for yourself is a start.
- Stay curious. Instead of asking “What have I lost?” try asking “What might I gain?”
- Look inward. Notice what the silence is revealing. Awareness is the first step toward meaningful change.
Your Next Chapter
Transitions will always feel tender. They remind us that time moves, roles shift, and nothing stays the same. But they also hold a quiet promise: reinvention is always possible.
And here’s what I have learned: reinvention isn’t about escaping who you were. It’s about becoming more fully aware of who you are now.
And here’s what I have learned: reinvention isn’t about escaping who you were. It’s about becoming more fully aware of who you are now.
Self-awareness is what turns endings into beginnings. It’s what helps you move forward not just in any direction, but in the right one.
This is where I meet my clients: in that quiet space between roles, when the distractions fade and the deeper questions rise.
Cultivating awareness is the first step in my coaching framework. Because without it, change is reactive. With it, change becomes intentional and aligned with who you’ve become.
Cultivating awareness is the first step in my coaching framework. Because without it, change is reactive. With it, change becomes intentional and aligned with who you’ve become.
So if you find yourself staring at an empty calendar or sitting in the quiet of your own in-between season, know this: you’re not starting over.
You’re starting with awareness.
You’re starting with awareness.
Reflection Questions for You
- What am I noticing about myself now that I didn’t see before?
- Where in my life do I feel out of alignment with who I’ve become?
- What truth about myself am I ready to acknowledge, even if it’s uncomfortable?
- If I stopped filling the silence with busyness, what truth might I finally hear?
- How would greater self-awareness change the way I move into this next chapter?
