A Woman of Leisure ep 5

One of the things nobody tells you about reinvention is that you will lose people.

Not necessarily because anyone did anything wrong. Not because there’s a dramatic fallout. Not because someone becomes a villain in your story.

Sometimes you lose people simply because things shift during flight.

If you’ve ever been on an airplane, you’ve probably noticed that everything has limits. Carry-on limits. Weight limits. Fuel calculations. Passenger counts. Every detail matters because the goal is to get everyone safely to the destination.

Life isn’t all that different.

When you’re preparing for a major transition—whether that’s leaving a city, changing careers, going back to school, moving to another country, ending a relationship, or finally becoming the person you’ve always wanted to be—the weight distribution changes.

And sometimes that weight includes relationships.

The relationships you thought would last forever.

The friendships you assumed would always be there.

The people who knew you when you were still becoming yourself.

The difficult truth is that growth tests every connection.

Not because growth is selfish.

But because growth is revealing.

Almost twenty years ago, I had one of those conversations that I now recognize as the beginning of an ending.

It happened about a year after a serious relationship had ended. A friend I had known for nearly fifteen years looked at me and told me that I hadn’t been taking care of myself during that relationship.

At first, I was stunned.

Because the irony was that during that particular season of my life, I was arguably the most productive I had ever been.

During that one year, I began the process of returning to university. I earned two teaching certifications that would go on to increase my earning potential for more than a decade. I trained for two bodybuilding competitions and won a national title. I set ambitious goals and achieved them.

And the person I was dating at the time wasn’t standing in the way of those accomplishments. Quite the opposite. He was incredibly supportive of my goals and ambitions.

My friend knew all of this.

She had watched it happen.

Yet somehow she had arrived at a completely different conclusion.

When I calmly walked her through everything I had accomplished during that period, she quickly changed her position.

“Well then, I’m wrong.”

And that was that.

At least on the surface.

Looking back, I realize the conversation wasn’t really about whether I had been taking care of myself.

It was about perspective.

Sometimes people can only evaluate your life through the lens of their own experiences.

Sometimes they see sacrifice where you see commitment.

Sometimes they see risk where you see opportunity.

Sometimes they see loss where you see growth.

And sometimes the people who have known you the longest struggle to recognize the person you’re becoming.

That’s one of the hardest parts of transformation.

We expect resistance from strangers.

We don’t expect it from people who have had front-row seats to our lives.

But here’s what I’ve learned.

Not every relationship is built on alignment.

Some relationships are built on proximity.

You worked together.

You grew up together.

You attended the same church.

You lived in the same neighborhood.

You occupied the same chapter.

And when the chapter changes, the relationship begins to reveal what it was actually built upon.

That can be painful.

But it can also be incredibly freeing.

Because while you’re mourning the people who don’t make the journey, something else is happening.

You’re planting seeds.

Seeds you don’t even realize you’re planting.

New friendships begin to emerge.

New opportunities appear.

New conversations open doors.

New people enter your life who understand your vision because they’re walking a similar path themselves.

What feels like loss in one season often becomes harvest in another.

I know that firsthand.

Had I remained attached to every relationship, every expectation, and every version of myself that no longer fit, I would never have found myself here.

A New York City girl living on a vineyard overlooking the Mediterranean.

A woman who went back to university at forty-seven.

A woman who fell in love after declaring herself forever single.

A woman who discovered that life still has surprises left to offer.

That’s why I no longer fear the shifts.

I respect them.

Because things will absolutely shift during flight.

Relationships.

Priorities.

Dreams.

Identities.

But if you’re headed in the direction you’re meant to go, trust that what falls away is making room for what belongs.

And the harvest waiting for you may be far greater than anything you thought you were losing.