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I Was Protecting Myself From the Good Stuff: Learning to Trust Life. . . Even More.

A birthday reflection on trust, managing disappointment, releasing control, and becoming available for more joy, connection, and possibility


Birthdays have become a season of reflection for me.


Not just a time to look at what happened over the past year, but an opportunity to notice what it taught me, what I released, and who I became along the way.


And this year, one realization keeps rising to the surface:

I have spent a lot of my life protecting myself from the good stuff (attempting to shorten the gap between my desires and disappointment) - unknowingly wanting less to protect myself from the tender disappointments of life.


Last year was different. I spent my birthday alone.

Not in a sad way. Well... maybe there was a little sadness. But that was just one emotion in a full spectrum of emotions I was experiencing at the time.


On my 46th birthday, I knew with every cell of my being that I didn't need a party or any sort of "forced fun." I needed to be... inward.


I needed to listen to myself deeply.


Care for myself sweetly.


Create enough space to hear my own voice.


That birthday came on the heels of what can only be described as a big, brave, messy, uncomfy, full-life reset.


It was A LOT.


And a year later, 47 arrived with a VERY different energy. It's wild how much can change in a year. (Something worth remembering when life gets really hard.)


What Changed?


Over the past twelve months, I let go of a lot.


I created space for new things and people to flow in.


I devoted myself to re-membering parts of myself I had unknowingly lost sight of.


I allowed myself to pivot, evolve, change my mind, and choose what felt most true... over and over again.


But something else shifted as well


In addition to the outer changes, I was also changing the way I related to life itself.


I was learning to receive instead of automatically defaulting to the familiar, well-practiced pattern of doing everything myself.


To allow—and ask for—support instead of assuming I was alone in navigating the overwhelm of life.


To make room for pleasure without telling myself I needed to "earn" it.


To really... really let love in. The capital L kind. The kind that says:

I get to be wildly loved and supported by life.


And in the weeks surrounding my birthday, I was struck by how differently life seemed to be meeting me.


There was so much spontaneous, unexpected sweetness.


The kind that makes you stop and think:

Wait... what is even happening right now?! (I mean, really magical, synchronistic, mind-blowing things)


The Thing is: We're Not Only Measured By What We Can Survive, Endure or Muscle through


To be clear, I'm under no illusion that this next year—or any year—will be without hard things.


Life will still be... life-y.

There will still be intensity, pressure, uncertainty, endings, and challenges.

Those things aren't failures of the process. They're part of being alive, growing, changing, and becoming.

But I'm realizing something that feels increasingly important:


Our capacity to meet life fully isn't measured only by how much difficulty we can tolerate and endure - It's also measured by how much goodness we're available to receive.


How much support can we allow?


How much pleasure can we experience without bracing, judging, or blocking it?


How much joy can we actually let ourselves embrace?


How much love can we receive without immediately wondering what it will cost us?


And this "work" around receiving the goodness of life may be the shift I'm celebrating most this year.


Not that I've left hardship behind.


But that after years of learning how to stay open through the hard stuff, I'm discovering just how open I've become to the good stuff, too.


And life is reflecting that shift back to me in ways I couldn't have thought up or strategically orchestrated myself.


The Cost of Protecting Ourselves From Disappointment


I think many of us learn, somewhere along the way, to protect ourselves from disappointment.


We make our dreams smaller.


We lower our expectations.


We avoid wanting too much.


We tell ourselves we're being "logical and realistic."


We convince ourselves that we don't really need the thing we secretly long for.


And sometimes this protection is useful.


It can help us survive seasons when life feels overwhelming or uncertain.

But protection can become a limiting pattern.


And eventually, the very strategies that once helped us navigate difficulty can begin keeping us from tapping into new possibilites.


We can become so practiced at protecting ourselves from disappointment and discomfort that we inadvertently protect ourselves from pleasure, connection, support, surprise, and joy, too.


That realization has changed something for me.


Because perhaps the question isn't only:

How do I become resilient enough to handle whatever happens?


Maybe it's also:

How do I become available to collaborate with life in service of my greatest potential?


Living With Open Palms


I spend a lot of life asking if I'm living with clenched fists or open palms.


A clenched fist says:

I need to control this.

I need to know what's coming.

I need to protect myself.

I need to make sure I don't get hurt.


An open palm says:

I'm here.

I'm paying attention.

I'm willing to receive.

I don't know exactly what comes next, but I'm willing to participate in what emerges.


That doesn't mean becoming passive.

It doesn't mean abandoning discernment or boundaries.

And it certainly doesn't mean pretending everything is good when it isn't.

It means developing the capacity to stay in relationship with life—even when we don't have certainty about how things are unfolding.


That's a big part of what Imaginal Change means to me.

It's the willingness to meet the uncertainty or tension of the moment, listen for the deeper intelligence that's emerging, and to participate in co-creating what's next without needing to control or predict every step of the process.


What I'm Carrying Into This Next Chapter


As I reflect on this past year, I'm feeling pretty damn sparkly and hopeful.

I'm authentically grateful for the mess, the challenge, the endings, and all the (often forced) becoming.


I'm grateful for the ways those experiences helped me create a life that feels more aligned, more open to connection, support, opportunity, pleasure, love, and magic than it ever has before.


I have a strong hunch that this next chapter won't be about discovering how much challenge I can endure.


It will be about discovering how much joy and possibility I can actually allow to flow in.


And maybe that's a form of transformation we don't talk about enough.


Not becoming better at surviving life.

But actually becoming more available for LIVING and enjoying it.


Listen to the conversation


I explored many of these reflections more deeply in a solo episode of The Imaginal Change Podcast, including trust and control, open-palmed living, the desires we shrink to protect ourselves from disappointment, and what becomes possible when we stop trying to force the next chapter.





Continue the conversation


If you're navigating your own season of change, uncertainty, or becoming, you may also want to explore Unstuck Yourself: Thrive Beyond Burnout & Discover Your True Purpose, co-authored with Laura Cardwell.


Because sometimes "stuckness" isn't simply confusion or indecision.


Sometimes it's the ache of a life that is asking to be reimagined.


And perhaps part of becoming unstuck is learning not only how to move through difficulty—but how to become available for the good stuff, too.


Learn more about the book here.


🌿 Explore more of my work.


🎙️ Follow The Imaginal Change Podcast on Spotify and Apple Podcasts

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