When You Know It’s Time: Reflections on Closure, Growth & Moving Forward

In this heartfelt reflection, Anita explores the often-overlooked emotional weight of career transitions—why endings are rarely easy, how discomfort can be a signal for growth, and what it means to trust the quiet knowing that it’s time to move on. Inspired by The Closing Gate parable, this post is an invitation to honour closure, embrace uncertainty, and walk forward with faith.

Anita Booth

7/20/20253 min read

There are moments in life when you just know—it’s time to move on.

Sometimes, that knowing comes in the middle of chaos or pain. Other times, it rises quietly during seasons of growth. But it always carries a weight that is both sobering and sacred: you’ve outgrown something, and it’s time to let go.

I often reflect on these moments through the lens of my career. After all, we spend the majority of our lives at work—trying to build a future, provide for our families, and somehow still hold space for life in between. And yet, so few of us are taught how to navigate the emotional weight that comes with that responsibility.

Growing up, no one really prepares you for how heavy working life can feel. Our parents try to protect us from the harsh realities, offering encouragement and hope for success. But rarely do we talk about the pressure—what it feels like to carry the expectation of “building a life” on your shoulders.

And while entrepreneurship is also a great path, the truth is that most people still work for someone else. Corporate life teaches you a very specific skill set: how to fit in, how to collaborate, how to perform within a system. In many ways, that structure can be helpful. It brings stability. It teaches resilience. It sharpens interpersonal skills—especially when navigating diverse teams with differing cultures, values, and communication styles.

But it also asks you to adapt constantly. And sometimes, in adapting, we stop listening to ourselves.

For me, working with others has often been both the most beautiful and the most difficult part of the job. People can lift you up—and they can drain you. And when you're leading a team or trying to grow within an organization, you're constantly being stretched in ways that feel uncomfortable.

In those moments of discomfort, it’s easy to blame yourself.
You wonder: Did I do something wrong?
Why is this so hard? Why do I feel so out of place?
You question your value. You question your voice.

And you feel all of it—anger, sadness, guilt, confusion. The messiness of it all doesn’t fit into the neat boxes we’re taught to maintain in professional settings.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe:
Those messy, complex emotions are sacred.
They’re not a sign of weakness. They’re an invitation to grow.

Often, it's those very emotions—grief, frustration, restlessness—that push us to break free. They are the catalysts that help us rebuild, create, and reimagine. They wake us up to what’s no longer aligned… and what might be waiting on the other side of courage.

Endings are rarely easy. We often wish for a clear signal or a painless exit. But the truth is, it’s not meant to be easy. Growth never is.

I believe we’re here to stretch. To rise. To evolve. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable.

That’s why The Closing Gate parable resonates so deeply for me. It reminds us that closure isn’t always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet. A gentle nudge. A gate that begins to close—not to block us, but to bless us as we move forward.

And as I shared in this week’s mindset activation:

Each step I take will reveal the path.
Even if I cannot see the whole journey.
Even if I don’t know what’s next.
I am guided—by intuition, by values, by hope.
And maybe, by something greater than myself.

So if you’re standing in a moment of uncertainty—wondering if it’s time to move on—I offer you this mantra:

Mantra for Realignment

I allow the discomfort to guide me, not define me.
I honor what’s ending, and make space for what’s becoming.
Each challenge is a teacher. Each ending, a beginning.
I walk forward—not because it’s easy, but because I’m ready.
I trust that clarity will come, growth will follow, and transformation is already unfolding.

May these words meet you with grace.
May you feel less alone in the in-between.
And may you walk forward—one bold, beautiful step at a time.