Have You Ever Felt Like You’ve Outgrown the Life You Built?
“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are."
— Carl Jung
A question has been on my mind lately.
Have you ever felt like you've outgrown the life you worked so hard to create?
I don't mean that in a negative way. I don't mean becoming ungrateful for the life you've built or wishing away the experiences that shaped you. I mean something a little harder to put into words.
Sometimes we spend years building a life that makes perfect sense for who we are at that moment. We make decisions based on our responsibilities, goals, relationships, and the realities of the season we're in. Then life changes. We change. And one day, we realize that some of the things that once fit so naturally no longer fit quite the same way.
“Sometimes we spend years building a life that makes perfect sense for who we are at that moment.
Then life changes. We change.”
I've been thinking about that a lot as I've reflected on the last several years of my own life.
Retirement Was Only the Beginning
When I retired after more than thirty years with Delta Air Lines, I thought retirement would be the big transition.
Like many people, I assumed the challenge would be adjusting to a new schedule and figuring out what came next. I knew I would miss the people. I knew I would miss the work. I knew it would take time to settle into a new rhythm of life.
What I didn't realize was that retirement would be just one piece of a much larger season of change.
Over the next few years, there would be more transitions than I could have anticipated. I sold my home. I helped my father navigate one of the biggest transitions of his life. I ended a long-term relationship. I packed up everything I owned and moved across the country. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I started building Mountain Awakening.
When I list those things now, it sounds like a lot because it was.
At the time, though, I wasn't thinking about it that way. I was simply handling the next thing that needed attention. There were decisions to make, boxes to pack, paperwork to complete, appointments to schedule, and responsibilities that couldn't be ignored.
I was focused on getting through the transition.
What I didn't fully appreciate at the time was how much the transition was changing me.
“I was focused on getting through the transition. What I didn’t fully appreciate at the time was how much the transition was changing me”
Looking for a Roadmap
One of the things I remember most clearly from that period was my desire for certainty.
I wanted to know I was making the right decisions. I wanted reassurance that everything would eventually make sense. I wanted someone to hand me a roadmap and tell me where it was all leading.
Instead, I found myself in a season when many of the things that had once felt predictable no longer did.
For most of my adult life, I had been accustomed to planning. If there was a challenge, I would figure out how to solve it. If there were a goal, I would create a path to achieve it. If there was uncertainty, I would gather information, make a plan, and work through it.
This season didn't cooperate with that approach.
There wasn't a checklist for selling a home, helping my father through a major life transition, ending a long-term relationship, relocating across the country, and starting a business all at the same time. Life wasn't presenting me with one challenge after another. It felt more like several chapters were ending and beginning simultaneously, and I was trying to navigate them all while still figuring out who I was in the middle of it.
At the time, I kept waiting for things to feel settled. I thought that if I could just get through the move, get my father settled, or launch the business, everything would start making sense again.
Looking back, I realize I was waiting for clarity to arrive before I allowed myself to move forward.
“Looking back, I realize I was waiting for clarity to arrive before I allowed myself to move forward.”
What I eventually learned was that clarity wasn't waiting for me at the finish line. It was developing little by little as I continued moving through the experience itself.
Realizing I Was Changing, Too
For a long time, I focused on everything changing around me.
That made sense because those changes were easy to identify. Retirement was obvious. The move was obvious. Helping my father navigate his transition was obvious. The end of my relationship was obvious.
What wasn't obvious was how much I was changing in the middle of it all.
I don't know that there was a specific moment when I recognized it. It was more a collection of small realizations that accumulated over time.
I found myself thinking differently about success than I had ten years earlier. I noticed that some things that once felt important no longer carried the same weight. I became more interested in creating a meaningful life than in accomplishing the next goal.
Even the questions I asked myself began to change.
Earlier in my life, I spent a lot of time asking what I wanted to achieve. During this season, I found myself asking different questions. I wanted to know what kind of life I wanted to create, how I wanted to spend my time, and what truly mattered to me moving forward.
At first, I thought those questions were about retirement.
Eventually, I realized they were really about identity.
I had spent decades building a career, fulfilling responsibilities, showing up for people I cared about, and doing many of the things I believed I was supposed to do. None of that was wrong. In fact, much of it was deeply meaningful.
But for the first time in a very long time, I had enough space to ask myself what I wanted this next chapter to look like.
““For the first time in a very long time, I had enough space to ask myself what I wanted this next chapter to look like.”
Not what was expected of me.
Not what looked good on paper.
Not what I had always done.
What did I actually want?
What I Understand Differently Now
When I look back on those years, I no longer see a series of unrelated events.
At the time, everything felt separate. Retirement was one thing. The move was another. Helping my father through his transition felt separate from building Mountain Awakening. The end of my relationship felt like its own chapter.
Looking back now, I see how connected those experiences were.
Each one required me to let go of something familiar. Each one challenged assumptions I had carried for years. Each one forced me to sit with uncertainty before I knew what came next.
I wouldn't have described it this way at the time, but I think much of that season was about learning to trust myself.
I wasn't learning to trust that I would make perfect decisions, and I certainly wasn't learning to trust that everything would unfold exactly as I hoped. What I was learning was that I could navigate whatever came next.
“I wasn’t learning to trust that everything would unfold exactly as I hoped.
What I was learning was that I could navigate whatever came next.”
That's a very different kind of confidence.
Earlier in my life, confidence often came from preparation, experience, or knowing what I was doing. During this season, it began to come from something else. It came from discovering that I could keep moving forward even when I didn't have everything figured out.
I think that's one reason I feel so passionate about the work I do today.
Many of the people I meet are navigating their own transitions. Some are dealing with health changes. Some are approaching retirement. Others are caring for aging parents, reevaluating priorities, or simply feeling that the life they've built no longer fits as well as it once did.
While every story is different, I think many of us share a desire to feel grounded during periods of change.
I know I certainly did.
MOUNTAIN MINDSET
As I reflect on this season of my life, I keep returning to the original question:
Have you ever felt like you've outgrown the life you built?
The more I've thought about it, the more I've realized the answer isn't always as simple as yes or no.
When I first started asking myself that question, I assumed it meant something was wrong. I wondered whether I needed to change something, leave something behind, or start over.
Now I'm not so sure.
Sometimes I think we haven't outgrown our lives at all. Sometimes we've simply grown within them.
We've gained experience, learned lessons, changed our perspectives, and discovered new priorities. We've become more aware of what matters to us and what doesn't.
The life we built still has value. The experiences that shaped us still matter. The person we were during those seasons deserves our appreciation too.
At the same time, I think there is wisdom in recognizing when we are being invited into a new chapter.
Maybe you've noticed yourself asking different questions lately. Maybe your definition of success has evolved. Maybe something that once felt important no longer carries the same weight it once did.
Or perhaps you're standing in the middle of a transition and wishing someone would hand you the roadmap.
If so, you're not alone.
Some of the most meaningful growth in my life happened during seasons when I couldn't see very far ahead. At the time, those seasons felt uncertain. Looking back, they were often the experiences that shaped me the most.
For me, the lesson wasn't learning how to have all the answers. It was learning how to keep moving forward without them.
Looking back, I think that’s what that season was really teaching me all along. Not certainty and not a roadmap. Just enough trust to take the next step.
If this resonated with you, perhaps this is your reminder that you do not have to carry everything alone.
At Mountain Awakening, my work centers around helping people care for themselves with greater compassion, awareness, and grace — especially during seasons of stress, transition, overwhelm, or change.
If you’re looking for support on your wellness journey, the Trailhead Session is a gentle place to begin.
