They say life moves in seven-year cycles.
I didn’t know this until recently and yet, somehow, it all makes sense now.

The most drastic shift in my life started last year, right after I finished my long-term assignment. I had been working in the same institution for over 11 years. A full decade of service, growth, duty, and identity wrapped around that one place.

And when it ended… everything began to change.

It wasn’t just about career. It wasn’t just about leaving a workplace.
It was the beginning of a deeper unraveling; a transformation that touched every part of me: my identity, my relationships, my sense of purpose, and what I thought I wanted out of life.

One of the biggest emotional triggers during this cycle, aside from career, was love. Or rather, a relationship that didn’t end the way I hoped it would.

I hadn’t been in a serious relationship for a long time.
When I finally opened up again, it was with the wrong person.
I gave so much of myself; emotionally, mentally, even spiritually to someone I had only just met. It moved fast, it felt intense, and for a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, this could be something real.

But in the end, he didn’t choose me.
He chose someone else.
And I was left with that painful question: “How could I care so deeply for someone who didn’t see me the same way?”

Now, looking back, I don’t know if I was rejected or protected.
But little by little, the truth started to reveal itself.
And the more clarity I gained, the more I realized:
I was being saved.

It still hurts, not because I lost him, but because I lost myself for a moment.
I loved recklessly. I gave too much.
But that experience taught me to slow down, to hold back, to observe, and to protect my heart.

I no longer rush anything, or anyone.
No more chasing, no more drama, no more stories that don’t align with my peace.
The right person — if he is meant for me — will come, gently and clearly, without me needing to chase.

And if life throws me the worst-case scenario?
I’ll be ready.
Because I’ve made peace with the idea that life doesn’t always go as planned — and that’s okay.

In fact, this entire transformation has brought me to a new place:
A place of surrender.
I’ve always been a planner. I had my plan A, plan B… even a worst-case backup plan.
But now, I’ve stopped holding so tightly to those plans.
I’ve stopped begging the universe for specifics.
Because maybe, just maybe, what I want isn’t always what’s best for me.

So I’ve softened.
I’ve let go.
I’ve whispered to the universe,
“Whatever You think is best — let it be. I’m ready.”

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Looking back now, one year later, I realize that what I thought was a breakdown was actually a breakthrough in disguise. I was breaking away from who I thought I had to be, and slowly — painfully — becoming more honest with who I am.

This past year has taught me more than any degree, job title, or achievement ever did.
I learned from heartbreaks. From silence. From loss. From stillness.
From doing nothing and from doing everything I could to simply breathe through the uncertainty.

This is what I now understand about the sixth 7-year cycle (age 35–42):
It’s not a crisis. It’s an awakening.
It’s when you stop chasing.
It’s when you start curating.
It’s when you embrace your limitations, your truth, and your pace.
You learn to say no. You learn to stop explaining.
You learn to sit still and trust that your next chapter doesn’t need to be rushed.

I’m still in the process.
I’m still transforming.
But I no longer see it as a problem to fix, I see it as a season to feel, to honor, and to grow through.

To anyone else going through this — you’re not alone.
You’re not dramatic.
You’re not weak.
You’re just in the middle of something sacred: the shift into who you’re truly meant to become.