The transition from spring to summer reminds us, sometimes without asking, that new things are possible. The light comes back after long winter nights. The world gets louder with possibility. “Outside” gets new meaning. There’s less permission to stay hidden and more invitation to grow.
My grandma used to always say, “There’s a time and place for everything”: a time to plant, a time to grow, a time to prune, a time to let go. I’ve come back to this reminder lately because it feels like my life, and maybe yours, is moving through one of those sacred in-between seasons. Not buried in the still of winter, and not shedding in the falling apart that autumn can bring, but in the transition seasons where soil is watered, where one thing is completing, and something new is still budding.
If you’ve been here with me for a while, you may have noticed I went quiet in the winter.
A Word About the Silence
I stopped posting because I stepped into the role of Senior Director of Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion at the American Psychological Association (APA). It came with Conflict of Interest restrictions that I honored fully, because the work deserved my complete integrity and attention.
That chapter has now ended, and while I’m still making meaning of it, the mission hasn’t changed, and the work isn’t finished. And like the seasons changing from spring to summer, this transition is less of an ending and more of an ellipsis.
On Spirit Airlines and the 17,000 People Who Didn’t Choose This
As I was thinking about what to write as a reentry into this space, the news broke that Spirit Airlines shut down all operations. Immediately. Overnight. A reported seventeen thousand employees were suddenly without jobs, without a warning that could have allowed them to prepare, and without any clean goodbyes.
If you or someone you love is dealing with this or a similar sudden transition, I want to speak directly to you right now.
You didn’t fail. The season changed without your permission. And while that is painful and disorienting and real, it doesn’t have to break you. What matters now is how you move through it.
Five Ways to Pivot in a Healthy Way
1. Create structure immediately. When the ground shifts beneath you, your nervous system needs anchors. Wake up at the same time. Plan your day. Stick to a schedule. Even small routines reduce anxiety and signal to your body that you are safe.
2. Limit information overload. Every refresh, news update, LinkedIn scroll, or gossipy phone call can spike your cortisol. Check in as needed, then be intentional about stepping away. You cannot regulate from a place of constant alarm.
3. Name what you’re feeling. Stress, anger, fear, grief, and even relief are all valid. Emotions need to be felt, not fixed. Naming what you’re experiencing is one of the most powerful ways to regulate it. I feel scared. I feel blindsided. I feel uncertain. Say it out loud. Write it down.
4. Focus on what you can control. Update your CV. Send one email. Have one conversation. Take one step at a time. Remember, you don’t need a complete plan. You need a next right move.
5. Stay connected. Isolation amplifies fear. Even one real conversation with a friend, a colleague, a therapist, or even a stranger in a LinkedIn comment can shift your mindset and restore your sense of possibility. Don’t disappear into the unknown. Reach out.
Recognizing Your Season
One of the hardest skills to develop as an adult is recognizing what season you’re actually in instead of forcing yourself to operate like you’re in a different one.
Not every season is for blooming. Not every season is for building. Some seasons are for preparing the soil. Some are for pruning what no longer fits. Some are for rest and integration.
The tension comes when we compare ourselves to people who are in completely different seasons. Someone else may be harvesting while you’re still preparing. That doesn’t mean you’re behind. It means your timeline is different, special, and sacred.
I’ve lived all four seasons in recent years. Spring was building the EMPOWER Lab, planting seeds before there was proof they’d grow. Summer was momentum, alignment, traveling for meaningful work, and teaching in flow. Fall was discernment, examining what still fit and what was ready to be released. Winter was quiet. The behind-the-scenes work. The honoring of a season that asked for less visibility.
And now, spring has been for planning and planting, for blooming and pruning. And I’m so excited for the incoming summer!
Growth Is Rarely Clean
You can love what you’re building and still mourn what you’re releasing. You can be proud of your evolution and still feel tender about the cost of change. Recognizing and honoring that duality isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.
You don’t need full certainty to move forward. Clarity often comes after the step, not before it.
What’s Coming
My time at APA taught me things I couldn’t have learned any other way. I’ve consulted organizations before, but gaining this hands-on experience has taught me invaluable lessons about leadership, systems, and even myself. My corporate season reinforced for me what it means to do meaningful work inside institutions not built with equity at the center. I learned what gets lost when you go quiet, and what quietly grows when you finally stop performing and start observing.
I’m bringing all of it back here and to the public, community spaces where I live and work.
In the coming weeks and months, I’ll be sharing what I learned: the hard-won battles, the unexpected gifts, and the clarity that only comes from doing something uncomfortable for a season. But I’ll also be doing something I’ve been looking forward to more than anything: slowing down enough to actually be present this summer.
Spring classes have ended, and I don’t teach again until August. For now, Roman and I are going to soak up every bit of the freedom I’ve worked so hard to afford us, and yes, I’ll be writing about that too. Parenting is one of the most profound mental health journeys there is, and I’m happy to talk about it with honesty and science, grace and understanding, and even a little humor.
So, expect more consistent writing here on Psychology Today and a more regular presence on Instagram. I’ll be covering the full picture: racial healing and equity, the lessons from my corporate chapter, and the beautifully complicated, deeply rewarding work of raising a child while also taking care of yourself.
If you’re not already following along, come find me. The community we’ve built matters to me, and I’m excited to continue pouring into anyone navigating transitions, sitting in uncertainty, and thriving through new beginnings.
Summer always comes.
Wherever you find yourself right now, whether you’re one of the 17,000, if you’re someone quietly navigating your own unexpected pivot, or if you’re simply sensing that something in your life is shifting, I hope you trust the wisdom of your timing.
Nothing is wasted. Nothing is random. Everything belongs.
And when it’s time to bloom again, you will.