Why Time and Space Matter When You’re Ready for Change

Over the past few months, I’ve noticed that I keep returning to the same two words to express my deepest desire at this point in my life: time and space. They often surface together, forming some variation of the same sentence:

“I want to enable the time and space to explore new things, to create, to breathe.”

Each time I say it, it comes with a strong sense of determination—one that doesn’t waver, even when my gremlins show up.

For those unfamiliar with Brené Brown and her work on vulnerability, she describes gremlins as the inner voices shaped by our experiences and upbringing—voices that tend to repeat two familiar messages: “You’re not good enough,” and “Who do you think you are?” Sound familiar?

We all have gremlins. Mine have been particularly active lately, surfacing as I loosen my grip on what I know in order to make room for what I long to explore and become.

My Garden Analogy

As I shared in my earlier post, The double-edged sword of new beginnings: the excitement, the grief, and the duality of it all…, creating space for something new often requires letting go of what feels familiar and safe.

Sometimes, we’re pulled in multiple directions by forces that feel almost magnetic. I’ve felt that pull for years, but I couldn’t fully respond to it until I began releasing certain fears—the ones that had quietly shaped my behaviours and defence mechanisms.

I often come back to a garden analogy to make sense of this process.

If you want to plant new vegetables or flowers, you first need to clear the weeds. You may need to prune, transplant, or even decide not to grow what you usually do. Creating space for new seeds to emerge sometimes means letting go of what once thrived.

That choice can be heartbreaking. It’s like parting with a favourite piece of clothing—one that fits perfectly, carries memories, and feels comforting—so you can try something new that may not feel quite right at first. Growth, after all, often asks us to sit with discomfort.

And yes, letting go of the known almost always stirs fear of the unknown—which, unsurprisingly, is when the gremlins speak the loudest.

Remaining True to Our Aspirations

I’ve also come to realize that when our time is filled with too many commitments, they can quietly become distractions—pulling us away from our deeper purpose.

This is where saying no becomes essential, especially for those of us who struggle with boundaries. A professional acquaintance recently reminded me of something simple yet powerful: “No is a complete answer.”

Each time I clear my schedule of obligations rooted more in duty than in passion, I feel a noticeable shift in energy. My creativity expands. My voice sharpens. It’s reflected in how frequently I’ve been writing and publishing on this blog lately.

That said, I won’t pretend this comes without fear. I still worry about the ripple effects of my decisions. I wonder whether saying no might lead to being quietly sidelined in certain circles. After all, I once worked as a Career and Employment Manager, and I still believe in the importance of networking and staying visible.

And yet—there is this determined voice that continues to rise above the noise. A voice that takes charge when hesitation creeps in.

If I’m honest, it’s almost amusing. It’s as though this voice speaks with maternal authority—calm, firm, unwavering—telling the fearful parts of me to quiet down. And then, without ceremony, it nudges me into action: make the call, press send, move forward.

I hear it clearly now—commanding, urgent, and deeply grounded.

The Gift of Time and Space

This gift of time and space has become an exploration of my yearnings, passions, and needs. It has opened doors I never imagined—and the freedom to explore them feels exhilarating.

The longer I remain on this path, the more signs appear to reassure me that I am exactly where I need to be. Messages from readers who share how deeply my words resonate remind me why I created this blog back in December 2018 in the first place: to connect, to reflect, to touch hearts.

Knowing that my writing can create space for others—to feel seen, understood, or less alone—means more to me than I can put into words.

I’ll end by acknowledging my gratitude for this steady, affirming voice within me. She leads with courage and clarity. She protects what matters most.

She is the guardian of my heart and soul.

An open book, inviting time, space, and curiosity to explore what’s waiting to be written next. (Book of possibilities, by artist Tomertu)