All of it at once

On what transition actually feels like: excited and scared, grieving and grateful, and somehow all of it at once.

I have been in our current space for 22 years. Twenty-two years of clients coming through that door, carrying things sometimes, yes, but also bringing laughter and stories and the particular warmth of people who have become part of our community over time. Twenty-two years of relationships that have grown alongside us. Twenty-two years of watching people walk out feeling better than they walked in. Twenty-two years of building something I am genuinely proud of, in a space that has become as familiar to me as my own home.

And we are leaving it.

Circle of Life is moving. Our new home will be at 240 N 7th Street in Akron, at Skyview Commons. We are aiming for late November, though I want to be honest with you, January 1 is probably more realistic. When we get there, we will have eight massage rooms, a private infrared sauna room, and a dedicated vibroacoustic therapy room. It is quieter. The parking is better, with a larger lot and dedicated handicapped parking.

I am so excited about this move. I want to say that clearly before I say anything else.

And I am also overwhelmed. And a little scared. And grieving the space that has held so much, even as I'm genuinely thrilled about what's coming next.

That's the thing nobody tells you about good change. It still feels like change. The excitement and the fear don't take turns, they show up together, at the same time, in the same body. And your nervous system doesn't really distinguish between the stress of something wonderful happening and the stress of something hard. It just knows that everything is moving.

Everything is moving for me right now, in more ways than one.

My father's Lewy Body dementia has been progressing slowly and steadily for a while now. Recently it has accelerated. We are facing some decisions that aren't easily made, about his care, about what comes next, about what he needs and what our family can realistically provide. I am doing my best to support my mother through this while also making sure I don't disappear in the process. That balance is harder than it sounds.

So this is October for me. Packing up 22 years. Planning a move. Making hard decisions about my father's care. Trying to stay present for my mother. Trying to stay present for my team, my clients, and myself.

All of it at once.

I started reading Wintering by Katherine May recently and I keep coming back to one idea: that some seasons of life are not meant to be pushed through or optimized. They are meant to be moved through slowly, with intention, with rest built in, with the understanding that what looks like stillness is actually preparation for what comes next. Winter isn't a failure of summer. It's its own necessary thing.

I think October is my winter right now, even though the leaves are just starting to turn. And I think a lot of you might be in your own version of it. A season that's asking more of you than you expected, that's holding things that don't resolve easily, that requires you to be both brave and gentle at the same time.

That's what Circle of Life has always been for. Not just the good days when self-care feels easy and earned. The complicated ones too. The ones where you're excited and scared and grieving and grateful and you don't quite know where to put any of it.

Come in. We'll hold whatever you're carrying while you catch your breath.

Jen 💚