The Exit Noone is Ever Ready for
Ready or not here it comes
Sis, you can plan your career.
You can pivot your business.
You can strategize your next move like a boss.
But nothing—and I mean nothing—prepares you for the exit that takes place in the pit of your stomach, in the soft space behind your ribs, when your baby walks across a stage in a cap and gown.
This week, I’m not writing about corporate shifts or entrepreneurial pivots.
I’m writing about a different kind of transition.
The kind that sends tender aches in my heart.
My oldest baby graduates high school this week.
And while I knew it was coming, had 18 years to see it approaching, there’s no spreadsheet or life plan that softens the blow of watching your child exit childhood and step into their future.
This is the Exit no parent is ever truly ready for.
The Unscripted Goodbye
I still remember her first wobbly steps across our living room floor.
The giggle. The tiny fists. The victory in her eyes when she reached for me.
Now those same legs carry her across a stage—with grace, with pride, with strength I didn’t even know she’d grown.
I’ve spent the past week swaying between celebration and grief, flipping through photos and trying to make sense of how we got here so quickly.
They warned me, of course. You know… the grocery store strangers.
“Enjoy it. It goes by so fast.”
And I’d nod politely while trying to get through tantrums and teething.
But they were right. Every single one of them.
The days are long, but the years? They evaporate.
The Strength She Built While I Wasn’t Watching
My daughter has always been determined.
But this year, she’s also been extraordinary.
A proud Honors Graduate, recognized on the All-Academic Team, and a Regional and State Finalist in Powerlifting.
Let that sink in.
My daughter—my baby girl—has been quite literally building the strength to carry herself forward.
And somehow, while I was managing work, navigating transitions, and trying to hold everything together...
She was holding herself.
It’s wild, isn’t it?
How the next generation becomes who they’re meant to be while you’re blinking back the years.
And now, she’s preparing to study medicine.
The little girl who once wrapped Band-Aids around teddy bears is now preparing to heal real lives.
Her dreams are big. Her calling is clear.
And I’m left in awe.
The Exits We Don't Get to Choose
Most of the time, when I talk about exits here, we’re talking intentionality.
A plan. A pivot. A strategy.
But this isn’t that.
This kind of exit—the one that arrives on time but still feels premature—this one chooses you.
There’s no “circling back.” No “let me sleep on it.”
It just... happens.
And suddenly, you’re navigating a version of yourself that doesn’t get the daily school run or breakfast check-ins anymore.
And it hurts.
Even when it’s beautiful, even when you’re proud, it hurts.
Because this is the part no one tells you:
Raising them right means releasing them well.
And releasing them will always undo you a little.
When Your Heart Has to Catch Up with Reality
If you're in this season, too—this graduation season, this letting-go-but-holding-on season—here are a few practices that are helping me:
Feel everything. Filter nothing.
I gave up trying to be composed at the ceremony. The tears are evidence of the love. Let them speak.Create intentional routines.
Each night leading up to graduation, we revisited a different year of her life. One photo album. One chapter. One long hug.Name the through-line.
For us, it’s our shared dry humor and love for romantic comedies. These things won’t change, even as everything else does.Grieve and anticipate—together.
I’ll miss our morning chats. But I can’t wait to watch her navigate the world with that fierce spirit of hers.
You’re allowed to hold joy and grief in the same hand.Give yourself permission to be undone.
This is what loving deeply does.
You don’t need to hold it all together. You just need to show up and feel it.
What My Daughter’s Exit Is Teaching Me About All Exits
There’s so much wisdom wrapped up in this moment, some of which applies far beyond parenting:
The most meaningful exits will always hurt.
Whether it’s a child, a career, or a chapter—it’s the love that makes the letting go feel like grief.Strength isn’t stoicism.
My daughter didn’t avoid the weight—she trained under it.
And so can we.Every exit is also an entrance.
She’s entering adulthood.
I’m entering a new relationship with her.
The letting go makes space for something new to grow.Being present is the best preparation.
The breakfasts. The road trips. The inside jokes.
That’s the foundation. That’s what we take with us.
To Every Heart Being Graduated
To the parents, grandparents, aunties, mentors—whoever you are:
I see you.
Whether you’re front row with tissues or watching from afar, this transition is no small thing.
It’s tender. It’s emotional. It’s sacred.
To the graduates:
Your people are proud. And your exit is our exit too.
Be kind with our hearts. We’re learning a new way to love you now.
For All of Us Navigating the Unplanned Exits
Sis, not every transition will come with a plan.
Sometimes it will arrive in a cap and gown, in a sudden goodbye, or in the realization that the life you built is shifting under your feet.
And the question is this:
Will you be present for it?
Can you hold what’s ending with reverence, and what’s beginning with courage?
Can you honor the exit, even when it breaks you open?
That’s what Exit to Next It is about.
Not just strategy, but soul.
Not just plans, but presence.
So today, I’m honoring the transition that broke me wide open.
And I’m trusting that something new is already taking root.
Until next time,
Yana