Spring Isn’t Always Gentle

For most of my life, I’ve thought of spring as a soft, gentle transition from the cold stillness of winter to the vibrant heat of summer. But this year, that image is shifting.

The past several months have felt like a brutal winter —bleak, desolate, and full of grief. If you’ve been following my updates, you know it’s been a challenging season. There have been so many tears. So many heavy days.

But slowly, signs of change are emerging. Little green shoots, early blossoms, glimmers of new life. I’m realizing now that new life isn’t always gentle—it’s fierce. It breaks through the frozen ground with strength and determination. Renewal takes effort, and it isn’t for the faint of heart.

This spring feels different than years past. It’s not soft and sweet—it’s bold and powerful. There’s a shift happening, and while much of it is still under the surface, I can feel it. A quiet stirring. A deep breath in. The beginning of something new.

Personally, this new season is bringing a major life shift: we’re moving from Long Island back to St. Louis. We lived there for seven formative years—our boys graduated high school there, and although those years weren’t always easy, they were filled with rich friendships and meaningful memories. One of our sons now lives there with his family, and we were lucky enough to find a home close (but not too close!) to them. We’ll be able to help with daycare pickups and do all the sweet, grandparent-y things that were hard to manage from a distance.

While I’ve loved our time on Long Island, and there is a lot I’ll miss, the transition feels right. I moved here not long after the lockdown era, and between working from home and lingering caution in the air, I didn’t build many deep local relationships, even though we live in a lovely, community-oriented place. Still, the trade-offs feel worth it. We’re stepping into something new.

In my work, this season feels like expansion, too. After leaving education, I spent time figuring things out—how to run a business, how to find my voice in this space. Coaching came naturally. Business-building? Not so much. I got swept up in the online business coaching world for a while. “Just make an offer, and people will line up to throw money at you,” they said. Let’s be real—that rarely works the way it’s promised. And honestly? I don’t even want that.

What I do want is a handful of amazing clients I can serve deeply. I want to provide excellent coaching, enjoy my work, and not feel overwhelmed. That’s the path I’m creating now.

(Side note: our current home has been lovely, but space-wise, it was tricky. My “office” has been a large closet—which actually worked pretty well! But in our new house, I’ll finally have an office with a door and windows. It feels like a metaphor: opening up, growing into something bigger and brighter.)

And yes, there’s an ADHD thread running through all of this. A coach friend of mine is writing a book on ADHD+, the idea that it’s not just the ADHD itself, but the extras that make life so hard—grief, physical challenges, big transitions like moving. Executive function challenges compound everything. That’s been true for me, and it might be true for you, too.

So, no, I haven’t forgotten about my own neurospicy brain or the way it adds layers to life’s challenges. But even in the midst of grief and stress and big change, I’m feeling something new.

I’m not expecting this spring to be soft. I’m expecting it to be strong. And powerful. And beautiful in its own way.

And I’m thankful!