When Everything Changes Without Warning

(mouse clicking) (gentle music) Headspace Studios. (gentle music) Hey, friends, it's Rosie here. Welcome to Radio Headspace and to Monday. So the other day, I walked into my favorite coffee shop, ready to order my very specific, very seasonal cherry blossom almond milk matcha latte. Now for context, this was no casual drink order. And look, I grew up drinking Nesquik strawberry milk, so this is definitely an upgrade to a fancy beverage, and I got a little attached. This drink had become a whole ritual for me, so I stood in line, exchanged quick hellos with the barista, and when I asked for my drink, she smiled and said, "It's out of season." And I stood there like, "Wait, what?" No warning, no slow fade, just gone. I know it sounds dramatic, I know it's just a drink, but stay with me here. What was noteworthy wasn't the drink, it was what it represented: stability, routine, a little bit of magic in my day, and now, it was gone. And I realized how much I'd come to rely on it, how quickly something can become a crutch when life feels uncertain. That moment made me think about the book, "Who Moved My Cheese?" It's so simple, almost too simple, but it hits. It's about how we respond when the thing we've relied on, clung to, even built our identity around, suddenly disappears. And I don't know about you, but since the beginning of this year, I've had a lot of "the cheese has moved" moments. Most recently, a launch I poured my heart into completely flopped. I'd been working on it for the better part of a year. I had plans, projections, spreadsheets, strategy. I really believed this was going to be the thing, the one that would carry me and my work to the next level, and then, it didn't. No big splash, no momentum, just silence. And I was left staring at the back end of a platform that felt like a ghost town, asking myself the questions no one wants to ask. "What did I miss? Was it me? Who am I without this plan? What now?" The truth is I didn't have the answers, not right away, but over time, I realized something. Maybe the launch didn't fail me. Maybe it was redirecting me. Maybe the thing I was clinging to so tightly wasn't meant to hold what I was growing into. Sometimes, the door doesn't just close. Sometimes, it needs to because we wouldn't walk away from it ourselves. Change isn't the problem. It's how we respond to it. Most of us don't resist the new, we resist letting go of the old, even if it's no longer serving us, even if, deep down, we know it's time. If you're navigating change right now, try this. Sit still for 60 seconds. Ask yourself, "What am I still chasing that doesn't exist anymore?" A role, a version of yourself, a relationship, a routine? Don't judge...