A Season, Not Forever: 4 Methods to Thinking Small
I know we are always taught to think big. Big goals. Big vision. Big picture. Today, I’m going to challenge you to think small.
These minute practices are for when life feels permanent, heavy, distant, and unsolvable. When you’re in something hard and your brain decides: Well, I guess this is my life now.
It’s not. It’s a season. And seasons end.
Method 1. Work in Phases.
One of the most sanity-inducing practices for me during my (horrendous) pregnancy and while raising a wee babe was remembering this: every phase of life is finite. Truly. Nothing lasts forever. Even when it feels like it absolutely will.
Proof? I am not still pregnant. I am not raising a baby.
And this doesn’t just apply to parents.
Remember puppy love? Still in it? Nope. Remember the heartbreak that followed? Still crying rivers? Nope.
Still borrowing money from your parents? Still drinking to blackout? Still in your first entry-level job? Still shacking up with three roommates? Still living paycheck to paycheck?
When you’re in the thick of it (whatever it is), it feels endless. Like this must be what life is like now. Permanently.
But it’s not.
Instead of thinking, This is my life now, try looking at your life in defined containers of time—specific seasons with a beginning and an end.
Don’t plan your whole life. Plan the container you’re actually in.
I used this with a client recently. She’s an entrepreneur and the primary caregiver to her three-year-old and was spiraling about her lack of time.
“I’m NEVER going to be able to grow my business!” she wailed, gnashing teeth and wringing hands.
“Don’t look at it as forever,” I told her. “It’s January. Your child starts preschool in September. You have nine months. Don’t plan for forever. Don’t even plan for after preschool. Just plan for these nine months.”
So—replace toddler-raising with whatever season you’re in right now: A job you hate. Debt you’re paying down. A relationship that’s hard.
Ask yourself:
What time do I realistically have in this window to work on what matters to me?
Which obligations are fixed, and which can be pushed or paused?
Which financial constraints actually matter right now, and which are self-imposed?
What support do I need—not forever, but just for this season?
Where can I carve out small pockets of time, help, or money within this container?
When you treat a season as a defined window, you stop drowning in the idea that this is your new permanent normal.
Because when September comes and your toddler goes to school, everything changes again. New rhythms. New freedoms. New decisions.
You don’t have to solve for those now.
Method 2. Practice Micro-Gratitude.
While you’re moving through this season, build a simple gratitude practice—not the “be grateful for the hard thing” kind, but evidence-based gratitude.
This isn’t about toxic positivity. It’s about noticing proof that things are changing.
Every day, note one tiny growth moment that shows this phase is not forever.
For my client, she was asked to write down something—anything—that showed herself she would not be chasing her child through muddy parks and fighting nap time for the rest of her life.
Examples:
Her toddler puts on his own shoes. One less task out the door.
She reorganizes a kitchen drawer so he can grab his own snack. Two minutes saved every time.
He plays with a new kid at the park. She reads a book on the bench. A mini vacation.
These are millimeter changes. Small, almost unnoticeable. And incredibly powerful.
Now think about your own season—the thing that makes you think, This is never going to end.
What are your millimeters?
Did you apply for a new job?
Show up to a workout class with a broken heart?
Take out your paints for the first time this year?
Pay your bills and make a dent in your debt?
Pitch a new client?
Tiny steps still count as movement. And they’re doing two important things at once: training your brain to notice progress that’s already happening, and making you more likely to create more of it.
Method 3. Plant Your Feet on the Ground.
A few months ago, my favorite local acupuncturist / shiatsu masseuse / reiki practitioner told me my root and sacral chakras were completely blocked.
“You’re not grounded in the present,” she said.
I almost laughed. Of course I wasn’t. My brain was three weeks ahead, two jobs deep, and simultaneously replaying conversations from last month.
She told me to plant my feet on the ground every day. Not metaphorically. Literally.
Feet. On. The. Earth.
Grounding myself in the present moment means I can’t be rehearsing the future or replaying the past. I’m just here.
Try it: Stand up. Put your soles flat on the floor. Feel the ground under your feet. Done.
You can’t live in regret. You can’t live in future-planning. (That one’s hard for me.) But you can live right here.
One client sets a daily 3 pm timer as a reminder to plant her feet.
How will you make planting your feet a priority today?
A timer
A visual cue
Walking through a doorway
First thing in the morning
Last thing at night
Method 4. Subtract Something.
Sometimes the answer isn’t adding more. It’s taking something away.
Especially if you’ve been in the habit of adding. Adding responsibilities. Adding expectations. Adding one more thing you’re supposed to carry. You can’t keep piling things on and expect yourself, or anyone around you, to absorb it all.
You have to even it out. So look around.
What’s extraneous?
What are you doing that you don’t actually want to be doing?
What’s an obligation, but not a must?
What’s someone else’s expectation, not your own?
When can you stop saying “I have to”?
Where can you change your mindset instead of your workload?
Where can someone else pick up the slack?
What you let go of, might be just for today, or just in this one role you play in life. Just like this season, this subtraction doesn’t have to be permanent.
You don’t have to solve everything. In fact, you can’t. Sometimes the answer is subtraction, not addition.
Stop carrying what isn’t yours. Stop carrying what you don’t need. Lightening your load is still progress.
