I didn't want it to end.

A month ago, I started the process of weaning Lucas, my 1.5 year old, from breastfeeding. He started biting me in the middle of the night. Not on purpose. He didn’t know he was doing it. But it had been happening for a few weeks, and one night I lay there in the dark and realized my body had been telling me for months. It was time.

I’d been feeling the pull to stop and not letting myself hear it — and I mean, really hear it. Because if I’m being honest, stopping meant something was ending. And some part of me wasn’t ready to let it.

When I finally did, Lucas took it hard. And weirdly, so did I.

I felt him pulling away from me. He didn’t want to sleep with me for awhile. And it made me want to pull him back in. I felt my inner child cling tightly to the connection we had.

But I knew I couldn’t have it both ways. I had to let the space open. For both of our nervous systems to find out that the transition was here and we were going to survive it.

We’re a month in, and we’ve discovered other beautiful ways to connect. I’ve also seen him draw closer to his dad — something that at first, my inner child felt jealous of, but today, I am actually enjoying.

And sure enough, we survived it.

Here’s what’s been tugging at me lately as I reflect on that experience.

We are constantly “in transition” whether we are aware of it or not. Often those transitions feel big — and some are more subtle. Nonetheless, they are happening.

I see it most in watching my kids grow up.

The kids eventually outgrew their onesies. And Matteo, my 4 year old, is officially off diapers. But the transitions in them also happen daily. They wake up every morning slightly different than they were the day before. A new word. A new skill they learned. A new way of orienting to their world. Quite literally, they are stepping into a new version of themselves while I’m still catching up to the old one.

And once I started seeing it, I couldn’t stop seeing this pattern everywhere.

A week ends. A season turns. A menstrual cycle closes and begins again. A version of myself I’ve outgrown. A new me that my nervous system is still getting used to (hello, perimenopause!). We’re in transition all the time. Most of it, we never register.

Here’s what I know about the nervous system. It clings to the old. It holds onto what’s familiar because familiar is what has kept us safe. Even when the thing we’re holding onto isn’t really working anymore.

So when something ends — even something small — there’s usually grief underneath. We don’t always notice it. We just feel tired. Or off. Or a little sad and we can’t say why.

But here’s what I want you to know: a regulated nervous system can hold more than one thing at a time. That’s actually what regulation is. It can grieve what’s ending, while at the same time, feel curious about what’s next. It can miss the old version of you and be excited to meet the new one. It doesn’t have to choose.

For a long time, I thought I had to pick. Either finish grieving before I could feel good about what’s coming. Or skip the grief entirely and rush into the excitement so I wouldn’t have to feel the loss.

That’s not how it works. The both-ness is the work.

I miss nursing Lucas. And I’m watching him fold into his dad in a way that’s making me cry the good kind of tears. Both, at the same time, in the same body.

That’s what I’ve been practicing lately.

— Anne

A few updates from me:

• My new website is live at anneespiritu.com. Have a look around.

• UNSTUCK is the self-paced course ($97) I created for those of you struggling to take the step you know is good for you. That step, by the way — yep, “transitions.”

• Inner Mastery Code is my 6-month 1:1 intensive for people who are ready for a full nervous system recalibration. You can check it out here.