101 Midlife Repotting: How to Stay Rooted Through Change

Change, even the good kind, can leave us feeling wobbly, disoriented, or untethered. In this episode, I share a story about repotting plants for my new Breathwork studio, Still Space Hull, and how it mirrors the experience of midlife change.

Just like plants, we can experience our own kind of “repotting shock” when we step into something new. Old roots are disrupted. Familiar ground feels shaky. And yet, this is how growth happens.

You’ll hear:
 🌱 What repotting shock can teach us about midlife transitions
 🌱 Why feeling unsteady doesn’t mean you’re failing—it means you’re adjusting
 🌱 The small supports (props, environment, nourishment) that help us re-root
 🌱 How to give yourself time, compassion, and presence as you settle into new soil

Because thriving in midlife isn’t about avoiding change, it’s about learning how to stay rooted through it.

✨ Listen in, and find your way to steadiness... even in new ground.

Thanks for listening to Rooted In Presence

If you’d like to get in touch with a question about today’s episode or find out how I can support you with coaching, here’s how to reach me:
📧 Email: carlykillenpt@gmail.com
📱 Instagram: @thestrongbonescoach

Do you crave unshakable confidence in your strength from midlife and beyond? Would you love to achieve your goals without sacrificing family time or self-care?

Ready to take your strength to the next level? Start building a stronger body and healthier bones with my Strong Bones Starter Kit—your step-by-step guide to safe and effective strength training at home.
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🌟 Stay connected and inspired with daily wellness tips on Instagram @thestrongbonescoach.
🌟 For tailored advice or personal queries, email me at carlykillenpt@gmail.com

Thank you for being here, and I look forward to supporting you on your journey to strength, health, and confidence! 💪🦴✨

Transcript

Carly: 0:46

Hello and welcome to Rooted in Presence. I'm Coach Carly, and this podcast is here to invite you to breathe a little deeper, live a little slower, and reclaim what matters in midlife. And today I want to explore a simple but powerful question. What does it mean to be rooted? Because if you're anything like me, roots haven't always felt like a comforting word. For a long time, I thought being rooted meant being stuck, trapped, bound to one place of one identity. I didn't want to put down roots because I was afraid they would limit me, but lately. My relationship with this idea has changed a lot, and funnily enough, I came across a new realization whilst buying plants for my new breathwork studio still space Hull. So if you are feeling a little unrooted right now or a little wobbly, stick around, I think you might relate to this episode. So let's talk about what it feels like to be rooted or some ideas that we might have around that. When we talk about being rooted, we might think of family or family of origin, or the chosen family we've discovered along the way. We might think of ancestry and lineage. Or a place the landscapes and towns that make us feel most alive. But roots can sometimes feel heavy. They can tether us to versions of ourselves. We've outgrown. Or perhaps this is just one way to look at it. And in midlife, it's often a time when all of this becomes clear. If you're a woman listening to this, you may be going through some midlife, perimenopausal, hormonal changes. And this brings with it life reviews, unexpected transitions. Suddenly, the ground we've been standing on feels unstable. What we've tolerated for years can feel unbearable. And what once felt safe, now feels like a pot that's too small, too tight, too limiting. And once we've had these realizations, we can't unsee them. We can try to ignore them, but as I've also learned over the years, the changes that we desire, they come knocking whether we want to engage with them or not. And for me, this has come in waves through burnout, through the lens of late diagnosed A DHD through moments where I realized I was living more for others than for myself. These things are often discovered when we take some time, some quiet, some stillness to sit with true self-honesty. And honestly, there were many times in life when I was keeping myself busy so I didn't have to sit with these things. But then, there always comes a time when these things catch back up. And that's when I started to feel like what I'm now gonna call repotting shock. So when I moved into my new studio space, I wanted to bring some life into the space. It's quite a plain room, quite minimalist, and I love it. I thought, what better idea to bring in the energy of plants. It's a breathwork studio and we have this beautiful exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide. What we exhale the plants inhale and vice versa, A beautiful cycle. So I went about shopping for some plants. And I found some healthy and some in need of TLC. Now I have a habit of wanting to take care of the, the plants, the flowers that are often in that reduced section. I don't like the idea that they might be discarded, so I like to see can we bring some life back to them? But I'm not exactly the green fingered one. My daughter, however, she has such a natural green fingered intuition and she came over to help me repot them. My intuition clearly has a different focus, so we tipped them out gently outta their pots. We checked the health of their roots. We chose fresh soil and the right kind of soil for each plant. She is really clever and we watered them in, and as we worked, she explained something that struck me right in the chest. Repotting shock when a plant is moved to a new pot, even if it's a bigger, healthier container. The transition itself can be a shock. The roots don't quite know where to land yet. The plant can start to look droopy, fragile, like it might not make it. And I thought, yes, I relate. I could not relate even more. This is exactly what midlife can feel like, at least to me. I dunno if you can relate to, but those changes the realizations, they lift us out of our current awareness. Bringing new possibilities, but also challenging emotions can arise to and when we've been lifted. Health of our old parts, the one that was too small, too constricting. Yes, it might have felt comfortable. It can no longer hold our growth, and then suddenly we're in new soil, new conditions at bigger parts, and we can feel loose, unsupported, wobbly. And this might look like navigating how you feel in your body as hormones shift. It might mean that things change in your life, your career, your family, your relationships. These are all kinds of ways that Repotting can show up in our life, and even when the change is right. It doesn't always feel safe straight away because that's the thing. When you move a plant even into the bigger, better pot, it doesn't thrive straight away. In fact, it often looks worse before it gets better. The leaves might yellow, it might stop wilting. I relate to that one. It might stall and stop producing new growth for a little while, and that's because the roots are stressed. If they need time to adjust the not yet able to take in what they need. Does that sound familiar? And that's how change can feel for us too, even when it's positive, even when it's exactly what we've longed for. So how might this be putting shock show up further in our lives? Well, for me, when I've left. Old versions of my life behind roles about grown ways of being that kept me small. I expected to feel free, and yes, there was freedom. I definitely felt that. But there was also grief, anxiety, and lots and lots of wobbles and like the plants in a new pot, I felt loose and steady. The old container, the tight was familiar. It had its own safety in its own way. And this new space, this bigger space, It didn't hold me right away. And that's the nature of repotting shock, whether you're a plant or a human, and just as plants need certain things to move through this transition, so do we. We might need gentle handling. In the process of self-development, we can tend to want to rip out those all parts of our lives, but instead, perhaps we can tend to our roots carefully. Maybe we can engage with a steady environment. Too much change at once can cause overwhelm. What familiarity can you anchor into as you adjust to your new environment? The plants need the right nourishments. They need moisture, but they don't want to be overwhelmed and waterlogged in their soil and that's what we need. Consistent, but not overwhelming practices, movement, rest, nourishment, they're all needed, but we can overdo it. Plants need indirect lights. They need softness while they adjust. And for us that might mean choosing safe people, quiet spaces, soothing practices, instead of throwing ourselves into the sun, into that new change all at once. And most importantly, we need time. Plants don't regrow roots overnight and neither do we. Of course, just as important to remember, it's okay if some leaves fall away. When we grow into a new container, not everything's gonna come with us. Some friendships, roles or habits, they're going to drop off, and that's not a failure because our energy is moving into new growth. So what does it mean to be rooted? For me, it's no longer about being stuck. It's about feeling supported. It's about having space to grow whilst knowing I have something steady beneath me. amd also within me to be rooted as to belong. Not in somebody else's script, but in your own body, your own values, your own presence is to know, even when I feel wobbly, even when the soil is new and the light is different, I can trust my roots to adapt. And that's the invitation in midlife not to remain in pots that are too small, not to resist the shock of change. To allow ourselves to grow into containers that actually fit the fullness of who we are now. So as we close, I invite you to consider a few questions to reflect on this week. Where do you feel rooted? Where do you feel the ground shifting, and what kind of reporting care would support you right now? Remember, growth is an instant adjustment. Takes time. And just like the plants in my studio, you're allowed to wobble while you find your footing. Remember, rooting takes time. You don't have to do it all at once, and you don't have to do it alone. This is a journey we're on together. If you'd like my support, my shining light to give you some clarity along the way, then please just get in touch through my website, carly killen.com. And until next time, may you meet yourself with compassion, work with presence. And remember, you already carry everything you need.