Is it over now?
We often talk about endings like they’re neat and final – a clear stopping point, wrapped up and complete. But in social change – and in life – endings rarely feel that tidy. Sometimes they come with grief. Sometimes with relief. And often, they come with both at once.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about how endings tend to fall into three buckets:
The ones we don’t want to end.
The ones we do want to end.
And the hardest of all — the ones we know need to end… but still wish didn’t.
Let me explain.
Early in my political career, I was working with a candidate who planned to run for governor. I was all in – working 12-hour days, totally immersed in the mission. I was young and full of belief, and I really thought we were building something. I never wanted this to end.
Then, without warning, the candidate decided not to run. Just like that, it was over.
I hadn’t lost my job technically, but it felt like the floor dropped out from underneath me.
And in that space, looking for something to hold on to, I signed up for a marathon. Training gave me structure and purpose. And somewhere in those long runs, I became a runner – something I’ve been ever since.
The thing I never wanted to end… ended. And it made space for something new.
Then there are the endings you choose.
Over the 15+ years that I’ve been running a consulting firm, we have broken up with clients only a few times. But each one weighed heavy. Breaking up with a client can feel backwards – like you’re not supposed to do it. There’s financial strain, anxiety, and the worry: am I making a mistake?
But once it’s done? Every single time – a wave of relief.
Letting go isn’t always easy, but it can be the most honest thing you do. Sometimes, the decision itself is the real act of alignment.
And then there’s that third kind. Where something needs to end… but you wish it didn’t. Where if just one thing were different – it might have worked.
For me, the clearest example is my decision not to have children.
I spent years thinking I would. I really wanted to want to. In many ways, it would have been easier – it would’ve made sense to the people around me. But then, one day, I realized: I didn’t want children. And that was the truth.
But truth doesn’t always come with instant relief. It took time for me to be sure I was doing the right thing. Because it’s easier to follow the dream others set for us than to confront the quiet voice that says: this isn’t mine.
In the world of social change, this kind of ending – the ending you wish didn’t have to happen – is everywhere:
A program you love but can’t keep funding.
A job that gave you purpose but no longer fits.
A project that’s run its course – even if you wish it hadn’t.
That’s the tension we live in as changemakers. These decisions are hard not because we don’t care – but because we do.
We’re not choosing between good and bad. We’re choosing between good… and something that might be more aligned. Between what’s familiar… and what’s asking us to grow.
And that’s what makes it hard.
Even when we know it’s time to move on, it can still come with grief. Even when there’s clarity, there’s rarely certainty.
But what I’ve seen, over and over, is this: Growth lives in that tension. Not after it’s resolved, but through it.
When we allow ourselves to choose what’s right – even when it’s hard – we make space for what’s next to take shape.