Falling through the Space

Have you ever felt like your world was shaking - not because it’s falling apart, but because something deep inside is urging you to leap? To change everything, even though it terrifies you?

It’s especially scary when you've already known what it feels like to have your world crumble, not by choice, but by circumstance or someone else's actions. You know the pain of loss, of broken dreams, of having everything you loved shift beyond recognition. But this time is different. Because this time, you're the one being asked to make the change. Not as a victim of life, but as the conscious creator of what comes next.

As a channel and intuitive energy reader, I often turn to spirit for guidance. I secretly hope the signs will offer comfort, that something or someone will talk me off the ledge. But they never do. Spirit doesn’t lie to make you feel safe, they lovingly reflect what you already know but might be trying to avoid.

Big change is like jumping out of a plane, and I know, because I’ve done it! When it’s time to jump, you’re on your own. Your loved ones can’t jump for you or with you. They're not beside you in the sky, they're there waiting on the ground, cheering you on. Still, in that moment, it's just you and the Universe. I remember telling the instructor to push me when the countdown reached "go" because I knew hesitation could cost me the courage to leap. There were 6 of us jumping that day; I went first because I was quite convinced that if I watched anyone else go I wouldn’t be able to. I still don’t know if I would have chickened out… and honestly, I’m glad I didn’t give myself the option.

But real life doesn’t come with an instructor to push us. So we hesitate. We cling to what we know, even when we feel the tension rising, even when the old life no longer fits. Eventually, the Universe stops whispering and starts shaking, not to punish us, but to prepare us. It creates turbulence so intense that standing still becomes impossible. The only way is forward. The only way is through.

In May I had a tea leaf reading. I was hoping for a cosmic green light, some evidence that good things were effortlessly on their way. I wanted ease, magic, reward. Life has felt heavy lately, for no particular reason, and I thought maybe, just maybe, the Universe was ready to cut me a break. But instead of a promise, I received a reminder: change is coming. Not a handout, not a shortcut, but a nudge.

And it rocked me.

You see, I’m about to become an empty nester. As a mom of 3 I have been through the process twice already, this is the last time. And until a couple of months ago I thought this was something I would breeze through. I thought I’d be fine. After all, I’ve been a single parent who has shared custody for a long time now. I’ve already learned how to balance being “on” and “off”; being everything for my children when they’re with me and rediscovering who I am when they’re not. I’ve lived through the ache of letting go more times than I can count… and slowly, I’ve come to appreciate the freedom and space that letting go creates.

So what’s one more child flying the nest?

But the truth is… it still hurts. And maybe it hurts more this time, because it marks the end of an era. My era. The hands-on, everyday version of motherhood I’ve known and lived for so long.

I couldn’t be more proud of my boys. They are everything I hoped they would become — independent, grounded, and deeply loving. They don’t need me anymore. And that’s the dream, isn’t it? But it’s also the heartbreak.

Because when your world has revolved around being needed, learning to feel loved simply for who you are — not for what you do — is uncharted territory.

And still, I digress.

The tea leaf reading confirmed what I already felt in my bones: time is moving on. My role is shifting. My identity is evolving. And now… the focus is going to be on me.

That’s both exciting and terrifying!

Letting go of what’s familiar, even if it’s hard, can feel scarier than staying stuck. Starting something new, without a map, without knowing the destination, feels like walking into the fog. Alone. Vulnerable. Exposed.

So right now, I’m allowing myself to feel it. All of it. And it’s a lot.

If you can relate, please know you're not alone. I’m here, right in the middle of it with you. It’s intense. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s also necessary.

I could offer you a dozen cliché phrases like “It’s darkest before the dawn,” and “there’s no growth without rain” and yes, there’s truth in them. But what I’ve come to realize is this:

Change is always coming.

We can’t stop it, because nothing stays the same. But maybe it’s not the change itself that’s scary, it’s the waiting. The in-between. The limbo where we don’t yet know what’s next but can no longer cling to what was.

I’m living there now, in the space between endings and beginnings and I think this has contributed to my burn-out. Sometimes, I find myself resisting joy, fearing it might be one more thing I’ll have to let go of. So what do we do while we wait? Do we plan, prepare, force forward motion? Or do we stay still, buried in the sand, hoping time slows down?

Neither feels quite right.

What I’m learning, slowly, gently, is this:
We can live fully in today and dream about what’s to come.
We can honor what’s passing and get excited for what’s next.
We can let go of control and trust that the path is still unfolding for our highest good.

So this is where I am: setting intentions, holding big dreams, and savoring the moments I still have in this chapter. I’m loosening my grip, not to give up, but to let the current carry me somewhere new and beautiful.

And if you’re standing on the edge of change too, maybe this is your invitation to soften, to surrender, and to trust what’s coming. You don’t have to jump today. But when the time comes, I hope you’ll let go… and allow yourself to fly.