When we talk about transformation, we rarely acknowledge how deeply it reshapes us.
Even during pregnancy, we focus on the physical changes—the expanding belly, the shifting weight.
But the transformation runs far deeper. Pregnancy rewires the brain, reshapes identity, and even leaves behind literal, cellular traces in the body forever.
What if we recognized that change isn’t just logistical—it’s biological, psychological, and deeply personal? That even the most chosen reinvention rattles the very foundation of who we thought we were?
Because here’s the thing: Change isn’t just about what’s next. It’s about what’s falling away.
The Five Pillars of Identity—And What Happens When They Collapse
Who we are is built on layers—some visible, some hidden.
Five core pillars shape our sense of self:
- What we do (our roles and work).
- Who we belong to (relationships and community).
- What we understand (knowledge and confidence in how the world works).
- How much control we have (our ability to shape our lives).
- What gives life meaning (our belief systems—the thing that holds it all together).
When one of these shifts, we wobble. When they all collapse at once? We come undone.
When Everything Falls Apart at Once
In one calendar year, I lost every foundational piece of who I thought myself to be.
- I was fired from the company I had grown up in—not because of performance, but because I stood up to a toxic boss.
- All of my close friends were immersed in the early years of motherhood—while I was still single.
- I was in grad school, drowning in the “conscious incompetence” phase of learning, no longer confident in what I knew.
- And then—the earthquake I never saw coming—my large, tightly woven family fractured in a way that left deep cracks we still feel 18 years later.
If my job was my stability, my family was my gravity. We weren’t just close—we were woven together, each of us anchoring the others, for better or worse. Family wasn’t just a part of life; it was the bedrock of who I knew myself to be in the world. And then, suddenly, the foundation split.
So there I was, untethered. No job. No clear path. No steady relationships. No certainty about who I was becoming.
I’d faced big transitions before. I’d reinvented myself, changed careers, weathered breakups, and found my way back to solid ground.
But never all at once. Never like this.
This time, I had no job. No clear path. No steady relationships. No certainty about who I was becoming.
But I still had one thing left to trust.
When everything else in my life felt uncertain, I had nature.
It was my constant, my quiet refuge. I grew up listening to the rhythm of waves, tracing the seasons like a second heartbeat. If nothing else, I could trust this: Nature had a rhythm. It had a wisdom. It made sense.
So, in the middle of my unraveling, I did the only thing that had ever made me feel steady: I turned on a nature documentary.
“Ahhh. At least Nature still has my back. So soothing.”
I settled in, watching a mama horse nuzzle her baby. See? Beautiful. Predictable. Comforting.
And then—a stallion came racing over and kicked the baby horse to death.
I shot up, turned off the TV, and shook my fist at the sky.
“Even caterpillars get a stick!!”
The Myth of the Smooth Transition
The caterpillar goes into the chrysalis thinking it knows itself. It is a fuzzy little land creature, it munches leaves, it has a plan.
Then one day, everything inside of it turns to goo.
No legs. No body. Just a primordial soup of cells trying to remember what comes next. And here’s the kicker: even in its most melted-down, what-the-actual-hell-is-happening-to-me moment, the caterpillar still gets a stick. A tiny branch to hang from while it un-becomes itself.
Humans? We don’t get that.
Or at least, we don’t think we do—because modern culture treats transition like a self-improvement project instead of an existential reckoning.
Right now, we treat major life changes as isolated, intellectual events. We plan for them, but we don’t prepare for them. We expect people to just “figure it out.”
- Leaders are given new roles but not the space to integrate their evolving identity.
- Activists burn themselves out because our culture treats urgency as more valuable than sustainability.
- We are given barely a moment to grieve before we’re expected to move on—before the loss even finishes echoing in our bones.
- People walk away from entire versions of their lives—careers, relationships, belief systems, communities—and are told to “just be grateful” instead of being supported through the grief that naturally comes with it. (And to be clear: I don’t mean death or reincarnation—I mean the profound identity shifts that come with major life transitions, the kind that feel like leaving one version of yourself behind to become another.)
We don’t talk about how reinvention feels like losing your native language. We don’t acknowledge that you can want something deeply and still mourn what it’s replacing.
And so, instead of creating systems of care for transformation, we push through it alone—convincing ourselves that struggle is just part of the deal.
What If We Did It Differently?
What if we approached leadership growth, activism, and personal reinvention the way we approach matrescence?
What if we gave people sticks while they melted into something new?
What would change if we:
- Treated career shifts like identity shifts, offering actual support instead of assuming competence will carry people through?
- Built activism structures that sustained people beyond crisis moments?
- Created rituals around transitions—so people felt witnessed, not just expected to adapt?
Because the truth is, transformation doesn’t work on a corporate timeline. It’s a Wildwoven process—seasonal, cyclical, deeply personal.
And here’s where I come in.
My work is about guiding people through these wild, uncharted shifts. Helping them navigate the messy middle and emerge on the other side, not just changed, but rooted in who they were meant to become.
If you’re in a season of reinvention—whether in leadership, activism, or your personal life—you don’t have to figure it out alone.
🌿 Navigating a Major Life Transition? Find Out Where You Are in the Cycle.
“Transformation doesn’t happen on a corporate timeline. It follows seasons, cycles, and deep internal shifts. If you’re in the middle of a big change—career shifts, leadership growth, activism, or reinvention—you don’t have to navigate it blindly.”
👉 Start Here: Take the Wildwoven Seasonal Assessment
Who it’s for: Women navigating identity-shaking transitions. Whether you’re shedding an old version of yourself, deep in the unknown, stepping into something new… or figuring out how to speak your truth inside the chaos of these times.