Keep the Change

Making peace with the transactions

Almost every day something happens and I immediately think, I’m going to write a Substack about that. It’s funny how many little lessons are tucked into even the smallest parts of our days. I love looking back on how those everyday moments can often represent big lessons and it’s been a joy to share them here for us to openly reflect the ways we collectively grow, stretch, and face new challenges.

In this season of my life particularly, I feel like things are changing so rapidly and I’m constantly required to learn new behaviors and quickly adapt to new environments. I’m so proud of the milestones I’ve hit in just the last few months alone and I can’t wait to share them all at the right time, but if I had to really recap the last 6–12 months of my life, it would be best summarized as: test, graduate, test, graduate, repeat.

The Reward for Passing the Test, is Another Test

When I look back on the last couple of years, each season has brought its own challenge, and just when I’ve gathered what I need to “graduate” from where I am, I’m met with yet another test.

In a weird way, my life feels like an endless video game where I’m always eager to advance to the next level. I don’t know if other people feel this way, but through all the discovery, growth, and mastery, what I feel at the end of each level, is a little bit closer to myself. In my mind, the true reward of this game is getting to show up in my fullest truth, and I hope I leave no piece of who I am—or who I was meant to be—untouched.

The Latest Lesson

One of my most recent “tests” surfaced in a small moment at the start of this month. Some of you may have seen this story on Instagram, but a couple of weeks ago, before my husband and I went to bed, I told him I wanted a ‘disconnect day’— alone time just for myself, to recharge and move through my day without any obligations. It worked for both of our schedules, so the next day I did exactly that. I disconnected, moved slowly, and made a trip to Bethesda, Maryland to create some content for a client’s holiday campaign.

After a long day of creating, I began my trip back home. About halfway through my drive, my car’s dashboard alerted me to pull over and shut off the car as my engine was overheating. Nervously, I immediately did as the car instructed and called over to Griff. After trying to diagnose the issue, we decided the safest thing to do was get the car towed to our usual dealership, which conveniently wasn’t too far away.

Within ten minutes—yes, ten—I was met by a young Indian man and his tow truck in a parking lot right off the highway. He was extremely kind, helpful, and he guided me to board the passenger seat of his tow truck while he loaded the car. Once I got in, I noticed how good the truck smelled and how much I liked the Indian hip-hop he was playing. He secured my car quickly, and we were soon on our way to the dealership.

image: the young man loading up my car

With only a 12-minute ride ahead of us, I struck up a conversation, curious about how he got into towing and where he was from. I joked, “Are you the good tow guy or the bad tow guy?” He gave a small smile and assured me he was “the good tow guy,” explaining that he’d recently moved from northern India and had been with the company for about three months.

I asked him if he had left his family behind in India, to which he responded yes, and I followed up by asking if he missed them. To my surprise he answered simply,

Something about the peace in his voice made it clear he had fully accepted that truth. I later found out he was only 23 years old and yet he had embraced a core life principle that many of us spend decades learning. What I later reflected on was that he never actually answered whether he missed his family; and from that, I could infer that regardless of how he felt, he was committed to the decision he’d made.

In that moment, I felt grateful, for that small but mighty reminder, from a stranger who’d so concisely reminded me of something I worked so hard to internalize the last few years.

I found myself pausing and nodding, giving his words space to land.

You Can’t Have it All

I traded my old life for a new one. And the reality is if I wanted to keep that life, I wouldn’t have the one I have now. I made sacrifices that felt heavy at the time but were absolutely worth what I gained in return.

This truth didn’t fully settle in for me until just before 30. In my late 20s, I started making decisions that aligned with the life I truly wanted. Everything felt transactional: this for that. People, places, habits, environments, beliefs—I audited all of them with the intention of building the life I envisioned. But even as I tried to choose better for myself, my heart still held onto things I had already let go of.

It wasn’t enough to physically move, change my environment, or shift my beliefs. My heart had to be at peace before I could fully receive—and step into—what was waiting for me on the other side. Once I truly let go, things began falling into place. Doors opened. Connections aligned. The life I wanted started taking shape, because I quit wrestling with what I gave up, and I shifted my entire focus to what I got in return.

I can’t imagine what it’s like for that young man—far from family, in a new country, with a new job—but I know whatever he’s striving for in this moment calls for him to be where he’s at now, eyes forward, driving towards what lays ahead of him. When I stepped down from his truck, I felt hopeful that he would accomplish everything he came here to do.

I encourage you all to make peace with your decisions, knowing the biggest ones will cost you the most. I think it’s natural to want to hold onto things, but at the threshold of anything good, there’s a price to be paid.

Everything costs something.

Thank you so much for reading.

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