Saying Goodbye and Hello Again

Navigating Life’s Transitions with Grace

by Sharon Hicks, LPCC-S

Transitions are part of the human experience. Whether we’re moving homes, shifting careers, entering new relationships, or saying goodbye to old ones—every transition marks an end and a beginning. But what often gets overlooked is the grief that accompanies change, even when it’s welcomed or chosen.

I’ve lived through more transitions than I can count—across countries, cultures, and seasons of life. Each one has left an imprint. And if I’m honest, it wasn’t always the change itself that was hard, but what the change unearthed in me: old fears, hidden grief, a deep ache for belonging.

One of my earliest memories of transition was moving to a new school in the first grade. We only moved 90 miles away, but in the 1980s, that might as well have been a continent apart. There was no email, no social media—only silence where friendships used to be. At six years old, I learned the quiet, painful lesson of saying goodbye with no way to look back.

I didn’t have language for it at the time, but that early experience shaped how I would later show up in transitions. It taught me to guard my heart, to brace for loss, and to press on without pause. And for a long time, I mistook that grit for strength.

Years later, I faced another transition that tested everything in me: moving from the comfort of a cul-de-sac in suburban Mason, Ohio—where our four children thrived and neighbors felt like family—to a densely populated city in China. We went from spacious yards and familiar routines to high-rise apartment living where we were one of thousands. I had never felt more alien—physically, culturally, emotionally.

I questioned everything: How do I show up for my kids when I feel so disoriented? How do I build belonging when I feel so unseen?

In that season of deep disconnection, a trusted friend reached into the quiet. She didn’t offer easy answers or cheerlead me into positivity. Instead, she gently invited me to pause. “Don’t rush through the ache,” she said. “Light a candle. Sit with your loneliness. See who might join you there.”

That simple act—lighting a candle in the stillness—became my anchor. It didn’t fix the disorientation, but it helped me hold it with kindness. That flickering flame created space to reflect. Slowly, I began to see how my own story—how I had learned to move quickly past pain—was showing up in how I coped, parented, and tried to stay afloat.

That season taught me that sometimes healing begins not with change, but with stillness.

So if you find yourself in the middle of transition—whether expected or unwelcome—here are three ways to walk through it with more intention and grace:

1. Name What You're Leaving Behind

We often rush to embrace what’s next without acknowledging what we’re letting go of. But grief has a way of catching up with us, especially when it goes unnamed. Take time to reflect on what this transition is costing you—people, places, routines, or even versions of yourself.

Journal your losses. Write a letter to what you’re leaving behind. Let yourself feel what you need to feel. Honoring the goodbye creates space for a more grounded hello.

2. Create Rhythms That Anchor You

In the swirl of transition, we often feel untethered to anything that feels safe and familiar.. Creating simple, consistent rhythms can offer a sense of safety when everything else feels uncertain. Maybe it’s lighting a candle, taking a daily walk, or checking in weekly with a trusted friend.

These small rituals become anchors. They remind your body and heart that you are held—even when everything else is shifting.

3. Let This Transition Teach You Something About Your Story

Transitions are not interruptions to our stories; they are the story. Each one carries a mirror, reflecting who we’ve been, who we’re becoming, and how we’ve learned to survive. Get curious: What does this current transition reveal about you? Are you reacting from an old wound? Are you carrying beliefs that no longer serve you?

Ask yourself, “What is this season inviting me to notice, release, or reclaim?” Transitions can be teachers if we let them. And sometimes, they’re the ones that help us rewrite the most tender parts of our narrative.

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Looking back, I see now that every transition I’ve lived through has asked me to do two things: let go and reach forward. It hasn’t always been graceful. Sometimes it’s looked like fumbling through the dark. But each time, I’ve discovered a deeper capacity to hold space for grief and grace, sorrow and joy, loss and hope.

If you find yourself in the in-between—between what was and what’s next—know that you’re not alone. There’s no right way to move through a transition, but there is a way to be present to it. And presence is where healing begins.

Sharon Hicks, LPCC-S is accepting new clients. Reach out here for more information.