Trying to Find Balance in the In-Between

This season of my life feels tender in a way I didn’t expect. Autumn has settled in around me, and it matches the shift happening inside me, a slow, steady exhale after years of holding everything together.

Five months ago, I walked away from the world I’d known for so long: full‑time work, corporate pressure, management roles, and the constant responsibility of looking after everyone else. I didn’t leave because I wanted a break, I left because staying any longer felt impossible. But leaving didn’t suddenly make life easy. What it gave me was space, and honestly, space can be confronting.

Now I’m studying full time, finally working toward the degree I’ve wanted for years, while also trying to build a business that will eventually need to support me. I can’t live off my savings forever. I feel that pressure every single day but at the same time, I’m trying to unlearn the frantic pace I lived in for so long. My body still expects urgency, deadlines and stress within every day. It’s hard to find balance when your whole system is wired for survival mode.

Some days it feels like I’m walking two paths at once: the committed student and the determined business owner. Both matter. Both stretch me. Both make me question whether I’m doing enough.

But autumn is teaching me something different.

As the days cool and the light softens, I’m slowly letting go of the rigid schedules that used to control my life. I’m not waking up to someone else’s time clock anymore. I’m not carrying the weight of other people’s expectations. I’m learning, awkwardly, but honestly, how to breathe again. How to create my own rhythm, how to trust that my work doesn’t have to be rushed or stressful to be worthwhile.

This season carries its own kind of wisdom. Autumn is a natural balancing point: light and dark, movement and stillness, gathering and releasing. It reminds me that balance isn’t something you “achieve” once and keep forever. It’s something you return to again and again. A practice. A gentle adjustment. A conversation between who I was and who I’m becoming.
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So I sit with my ancestors at my altar, in the garden, or just in the quiet moments asking for guidance. How do I build this business from a place of steadiness instead of fear? How do I honour my studies without drowning in overwhelm? How do I trust this path, even when it feels uncertain?

​The answers come softly:

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Take one day at a time

And in this autumn, I’m grateful. Grateful for the cool air that slows me down. Grateful for the chance to rebuild my life on my own terms. Grateful for the balance that’s slowly taking root inside me.
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This season isn’t easy. But it’s honest. And in that honesty, I’m finding my way.