The Journal

Some Storms Are Worth Weathering (And Some Aren’t)

I took my sixteen-year-old, Tessa, to Mexico City to see Harry Styles — currently her favorite artist, and mine too these days. Traveling to different countries for concerts has become one of my favorite things, because the tickets are wildly cheaper outside the U.S. Capitalism, much? Even with flights, an Airbnb for four days, Ubers, food, souvenirs, and tickets, we spent less than we would’ve spent seeing him at Madison Square Garden (the only place Harry is performing in the United States). Naturally, now that we’ve seen him twice on this tour, we’re scheming how to get to New York, because I want to see this show again (and again, and again). But I digress.

Night one, we had pit tickets. Tessa wanted to be all the way in the back so she could dance and vibe without worrying about being seen. We got there at 4 pm for a 9 pm show, ended up moving to the back by choice, and it rained on us for hours. We were soaked, and by the end of the night even my 16yo was sore. It was a blast.

Night two, we had seats, so we didn’t need to rush — but we got there early anyway to check out merch. Around 5:30, right as we walked toward the gates, it started to rain. And then it didn’t just rain. It hailed. For an hour and a half. It hailed so hard the venue was shoveling hail off the ground like rock salt.

So: weather the storm, or leave.

We’d already seen the show once. We could’ve called it. Instead, we asked a couple of women from Mexico City what they thought, and they laughed and said the show never gets canceled — Mexico City doesn’t play like that. So we waited. And by 9:30, Harry was on stage, the sky had cleared, the moon was full, and we were dry and warm from dancing. But we would have stayed even if the rain hadn’t stopped. If Harry was performing, we were watching.

Some storms are worth weathering.

The Bigger Pattern

So many of us, especially women, spend a huge chunk of our lives weathering storms. Chaos becomes the water we swim in — whether it’s life happening to us, or life we accidentally stirred up ourselves. Honestly, who’s counting at this point? It’s probably both.

Here’s what I’ve noticed as I get older: I don’t crave chaos anymore. I don’t crave drama. I don’t crave the gossip or the fire drill or the “can you believe what just happened” text chain. I just want life to feel lighter. Easier. More joyful.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It means I’ve gotten really good at letting go of what I can’t control, and doing something about what I can. Surrender and release have been two of the greatest gifts of my life. If I can shift it, I shift it. If I can’t, I let it go.

But some things surprise you. You expect ease, and then a storm rolls in anyway, and you’re standing there with a choice: weather it, or bail. That’s exactly the choice we faced standing in the hail outside that venue — and it’s the same choice that shows up everywhere else in life too.

The Storm That Isn’t Weather

Here’s where it gets interesting for those of us running businesses, because we live this exact decision constantly, minus the hail (hopefully).

Think about the launch that’s tanking three days in and you have to decide: do I keep going, or do I pull the plug and regroup? The client relationship that’s gotten hard — is this a rough patch worth working through, or a sign it’s time to let go? The platform algorithm shift that tanks your reach overnight — do you chase it, or do you trust the work and keep showing up the way you always have? The team member who’s struggling — is this a season, or is this the end?

Every one of those is a hailstorm. And every one of them asks the same question the concert did: is this worth weathering, or is this my cue to leave?

The problem is, most of us were never taught how to tell the difference. We were taught to push through everything, because stopping felt like failing. So we stayed in relationships past their expiration date, kept launching offers that weren’t landing because quitting felt like giving up, and treated every storm — weather or otherwise — as something to survive rather than something to actually assess.

What My Own Work Taught Me About This

This is honestly the whole reason the EASE Pathway™ exists. Explore is where you get honest about what’s actually happening instead of what you’re afraid is happening — is this genuinely a storm worth weathering, or is my nervous system just panicking because change feels unsafe? Align is where you get quiet enough, regulated enough, to actually hear your own answer instead of everyone else’s opinion about what you should do. And Simplify + Shift is where you release the compulsion to control every single variable, because you physically cannot control the hail. You can only control whether you stay in it. Combine it all together and suddenly you have Embody Expansion. And let me tell you, that feels fucking amazing.

Before, I couldn’t tell the difference between “this is hard and worth it” and “this is hard and I should leave.” Now I can, most of the time — because I’ve done the work to know my own signals. I know what my body feels like when I’m avoiding something versus when I’m genuinely done. That distinction is everything.

What This Looks Like With Clients

This shows up in coaching constantly. A client will come to me convinced they need to blow up their whole business because one thing went sideways, and we slow down and ask: is this the storm, or is this actually the moment you find out what you’re made of? Sometimes the answer is “burn it down, this isn’t yours anymore.” And sometimes the answer is “stay, this is just the hail before the encore.”

Human Design gives people permission to trust their own authority instead of outsourcing the decision to a business coach on Instagram. Nervous system regulation work gives them the actual physical capacity to stay present in the chaos long enough to make a clear-headed call instead of a fear-based one. And the subconscious work clears out the old story that says storms are proof you’re doing something wrong. It’s just weather. Some of it passes through. Some of it means go inside. Let’s figure out how you can best navigate it!

 

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