The Iris That Waited — A Story of Letting Go and Beginning Again

The iris bloom you see pictured here is blooming for the very first time. These bulbs came from my grandmother’s iris bed in Missouri. I dug them up more than five years ago and carried them home in my suitcase to Oregon. I planted them, watched them grow each year — and each year, they did not bloom.

Until now.

And the timing of this bloom? Impeccable.

I recently went through a deeply difficult experience: I was fired. After being named CEO of a small organization during what felt like a seamless transition from one retiring physician to another launching her practice, I thought I had found the job I’d retire from.

But life — or God — had other plans.

It felt like being ripped from the ground by a tornado and flung into a dry, desolate place. After years of structure, connection, and responsibility, I was suddenly without the space I had built my life around. I felt embarrassed, sad, angry… but also, not surprisingly, grateful.

Grateful to be free from the enormous weight I had carried for so long.

I didn’t miss the job for a single moment — but I missed the people. The laughter. The deep conversations. The silly moments that made the stress bearable.

For a few days, I launched into panic mode. I updated my resume, reached out to contacts, filed for unemployment, and made an ambitious task list to prove to myself that I was still productive, still worthy.

Then came the crash.

I was exhausted. After years of running on fumes, my nervous system finally downshifted, and it felt like I was walking through concrete. I could barely move. And still, I was plagued by guilt — the guilt of not earning, not contributing “enough,” not doing it all.

In truth, I was grieving. And grieving demands rest, stillness, and grace.

My body has been trying to tell me this for years. A week before I was let go, my doctor recommended a medical leave. She warned me that if I didn’t change something, my body would fail.

We live in a culture that glorifies hustle and productivity, but it’s killing us. We are the most technologically advanced society in history — and one of the most chronically stressed.

In 2022, I started my business — Look Within Holistic Coaching — and in February 2025, I had to close it temporarily. My job consumed everything I had, and I could no longer show up fully for my clients. I’m a nurse, but my passion lies in coaching and practicing Reiki. It’s where I feel most alive. Most aligned. Most me.

So this May, I’m reopening my business — with new purpose, new offerings and renewed energy.

And maybe, just maybe… my grandmother knew this was my year all along. This is when I was meant to bloom..

Because now I understand: the iris didn’t bloom when I wanted it to. It bloomed when the time was right.

So will I.

If you’re in a season of burnout, grief, or transition — I see you. And I invite you to slow down and check in with yourself, too.