I thought readiness would feel like confidence.
I pictured waking up one morning steady and sure. The grief would have settled. The fear would be quiet. I’d know exactly what to do, and I’d feel good about doing it.
That morning didn’t come. (I waited for it.)
Here’s what happened.
At 24, I became a widow. Bob was in a car accident while I was three states away. He died before midnight. I didn’t sleep that night, and the next morning I flew back to Pennsylvania to plan his funeral.
In the weeks after, I stayed with his parents because I couldn’t face our house alone. I walked. I talked to myself. I talked to Bob.
I wasn’t ready for anything. Not a plan, not a future, not one more person telling me I’d be okay.
Then my mother-in-law said something simple. Get a job.
I didn’t feel ready for that either. I took a waitressing job at a diner within walking distance of my house anyway. It wasn’t a big decision. It got me out of the house and back in touch with people. It also provided a fellow waitress who had raised two kids on her own after becoming a widow. She never told me I’d be okay. She showed me.
Readiness looked like that. A small yes to a small thing.
Slowly, a different question showed up. Not why did this happen? but what do I want next?
It wasn’t loud, and it didn’t come with a feeling of being healed. I was still grieving. Grief doesn’t finish. It just stops being the only thing you think about.
That question led me to an apprenticeship at a theatre in New Jersey, and eventually to a life in New York City. It was not the life I’d planned. It was a life I chose one step at a time.
What readiness looked like the second time
Years later, after nearly 20 years in corporate work, I was laid off. A FedEx package was waiting at my door when I got home from a retreat. I was blindsided.
I had already been certified as a coach. For years before that, I’d been exploring my options through workshops and different trainings, convinced I wasn’t good enough yet. Looking back, that wasn’t preparation. It was fear wearing the costume of self-improvement.
The truth is, I already had what I needed.
After the layoff, I sat with fear for six months. Then I talked myself into it, picked up the phone and called the HR director at the company that had let me go to offer support.
When we met, he told me he needed help with the employees they were still laying off.
I named my price. Five thousand a month.
He said, “Can you start Monday?”
That consulting contract ran nearly a year and brought in close to $50K. But the money wasn’t the proof. The proof was that I made the call while I was still scared.
Readiness wasn’t the absence of fear. It was being scared and picking up the phone anyway.
What I expected vs. what it looked like
I expected confidence. It looked like a small yes.
I expected to feel healed. It looked like a new question.
I expected certainty. It looked like being afraid and doing one thing anyway.
How you may know
Everyone’s version looks different. Here are some signs I’ve seen in my own life and in the people I work with:
- The question changes from why did this happen? to what’s next?
- You catch yourself curious about something, even a little.
- Staying where you are starts to cost more than it used to.
- You can picture one small step. Not the whole plan. Just one.
- The fear is still there, and you’re considering it anyway.
Which one of these sound familiar?
And if you’re not ready yet
That’s okay.
There’s no expiration date on grief and no schedule you’re falling behind. You may circle back. You may feel ready on Tuesday and flattened by Friday. Something small may undo you years later. None of that means something is wrong with you.
Not ready is information. It isn’t a verdict.
If what you need is rest, space, and time, that’s real, and it deserves respect. If you keep needing one more course, one more book, one more year of getting ready before you begin, that may be fear in disguise. I know because I wore it.
Only you can tell which one you’re in. It helps to say it out loud to someone.
If you’d like company
If you’re somewhere in the middle and can’t tell which one you are, let’s talk. You can book a call here.
It’s a conversation about where you are and what might come next. Nothing more.
If you already know, From Loss to Renewal, my 12-week guided journey through grief and change, begins October 6. You can enroll here or reply to this email with questions.
Take the time you need. I’m here when you’re ready.