When the Spiral Hits: Learning to Sit in the In-Between
Does anyone else start to spiral when the cooler weather sets in? I know I do.
There’s something about this seasonal shift that stirs up the in-between — that uncomfortable space where the old has fallen away but the new hasn’t quite arrived.
This week has felt off. We’ve been traveling, the house feels out of sorts, and I’m in the midst of a detox, so it makes sense that I’m feeling wobbly. But knowing why doesn’t always make it easier.
I’ve never done well with the in-between. I like to move, to do, to find my rhythm again quickly. Sitting in the unknown feels like standing in cold water — uncomfortable, exposing, and something I instinctively want to run from.
I can see my old pattern here — that tendency to switch directions or distract myself when things start to feel hard. And yet, I know winter invites us inward. It’s the season of doing the deep work, of rest, of reflection.
But if I’m honest… I’m tired.
I’ve done so much inner work this past year, and I know there’s more to come, but I can feel the edges of my exhaustion. And then, just as I start to soften into that truth, guilt slips in:
“If I can’t be the example of what I’m trying to teach, how can I help other women?”
Am I putting too much pressure on myself? Probably.
But my dreams are big. My vision is bold. And part of me believes that pushing harder is the only way forward.
Then the spiral kicks in full force.
The house is a mess. The kids are about to wake up. I could be cleaning. I forgot to plan the day. No one slept last night. Maybe I should start sleep training the baby again — but that didn’t go so well last time.
Why can’t things just be easy?
And that’s when I catch myself.
Stop. Breathe. Focus. Center.
My body is whispering what it needs: structure and hydration.
Can I let that be enough? Can I set a simple goal — drink my ounces of water, tidy up three things — and let that be my rhythm for today?
A voice inside says, “No, it’s not enough.”
But maybe, just maybe… it is.
Maybe this season is about learning to honor the small wins.
Maybe it’s about trusting that tending to myself is tending to my vision.
And maybe the in-between isn’t something to escape — but something to soften into.
My invitation to you:
When the seasons shift, how do you tend to respond — do you find yourself resisting the pause or welcoming it?
What simple, nourishing acts could you focus on today that help your body feel supported?
Where might you be pressuring yourself to do more, when your spirit is quietly asking you to rest?
What would it look like to let “enough” truly be enough?
In Peace, Love and Service,
Rebecca
