When the numbers shift and you choose perspective

Last night, I lost a client.

When you strip it back to facts, it was a 30% reduction in my current monthly income. One decision, one change, and the numbers shifted.

It also changed how my goals looked. Instead of being halfway to my £20k-a-month target, I’m now sitting closer to 35% of the way there. A bigger gap. A steeper climb.

Objectively, that’s a hit.

Emotionally, it landed harder than I expected.

My first response wasn’t strategic or grounded. It was panic. A proper tailspin. That familiar why me? narrative, with rejection sensitivity fuelling every unhelpful thought.

I let myself feel it.
Then I stopped.

I slowed my breathing. I regulated my nervous system. I gave myself space before reacting or making the moment mean something bigger than it needed to.

(It does sound a bit w*nky. But it works.)

The Reframe That Changed the Moment

We’re at the end of the Year of the Snake.

In symbolism, this is about shedding. Old skins. Old identities. Patterns that once served you but don’t fit anymore.

And once I looked at the situation through that lens, this didn’t feel like failure.

It felt like clearing.

Not because losing income is enjoyable or easy, but because holding onto misaligned work has a cost too. Sometimes growth doesn’t look like steady expansion. Sometimes it looks like contraction first.

Sometimes the universe doesn’t gently nudge.
It removes.

What Resilience Actually Looks Like

Resilience isn’t pretending setbacks don’t hurt.
It isn’t rushing to reframe so quickly that you bypass the reality.

Real resilience is:

• allowing the wobble without self-judgement

• regulating before reacting

• choosing meaning after the emotion, not instead of it

This moment could have pushed me into rushed decisions, scarcity thinking, or filling the gap with work that didn’t feel right.

Instead, it became a moment of recalibration.

I don’t need to urgently close a 65% growth gap.
I need to build something aligned, sustainable, and intentional in that space.

Why This Matters

Moments like this are exactly why I wrote The I in Resilience.

Not to celebrate perfect outcomes, but to name the quieter moments where things wobble and you choose not to abandon yourself.

Resilience lives in the pause.
In the breath.
In the decision not to let a temporary contraction redefine your worth or capability.

If you’re in a similar season right now, this is your reminder:

You’re not failing.
You’re shedding.

And you don’t need to rush what comes next.

If you want something steady to sit alongside you during moments like this, The I in Resilience is there. No urgency. No pressure. Just support, perspective, and language for when things shift.