The Breaking Point of Change

We are well underway with the #AdventBlogs and we have a reflective one from Megan de Klerk who is the Director of Curiosity for Think Curious - https://think-curious.com/ who empower organisations to thrive through change. Megan is also connectable on LinkedIn - https://www.linkedin.com/in/megandeklerk/

So its over to Megan who is reflecting on the breaking point of change. Read, reflect and share your thoughts on LinkedIn.

I didn’t plan to write this. Not because I didn’t have something to say, but because I wasn’t sure where to begin. I have wanted to share this for sometime, but as it is deeply personal I felt stuck, but I know sharing can help someone else. So here it goes. 

The truth is, this year changed me. Not in the glossy, Instagrammable way. In the quiet, messy, deeply personal way that sneaks up on you when you’re not looking.

At the start of the year, I unraveled. I didn’t know where I wanted to live, what my business was becoming, or how to hold myself together. I had a nervous breakdown. Not the kind you can schedule around meetings or soften with euphemisms. The kind that stops you in your tracks, has you in bed, and makes you question everything.

I’ve always been someone who strives. High standards, big dreams, a tendency to push through. But somewhere along the way, I gave too much of myself away. I let someone else steer a business I’d built from scratch. I stopped listening to my own instincts. And when things fell apart, I realised I’d been running on fumes.

I've always believed in the power of pausing. I talk about it often. I coach others to do it. But this year, I didn’t choose to pause. It chose me. When everything felt too much, I stopped. Not gracefully. Not with a plan. I just stopped.

And in that stillness, I remembered something I’d forgotten: that pushing harder doesn’t always get you closer. That grasping too tightly can make things slip away.

There’s a Buddhist analogy I love. It compares effort to a pendulum. Push too hard with anxious energy, and what you want swings away. Pull too tightly with desperation, and it retreats. But if you let go, just enough, it finds its way back to the centre.

That image became my anchor. Not just in business, but in life. Slowing down felt unnatural at first. Like I was failing. Like I was falling behind. But slowly, something shifted.

I started noticing things. The way the light changed in the afternoon. The way my body felt when I wasn’t rushing. The quiet joy of doing something just because it felt good.

I reconnected with people who mattered. I let go of things that didn’t. I stopped trying to prove myself and started asking what I actually wanted. And somewhere in that process, I found my way back to myself.

I don’t have a five-step plan or a neat little framework, but I do have a few thoughts if you’re standing at the edge of change and wondering what comes next. Start with a pause, not a dramatic one, just a moment, a breath, a walk without your phone. Ask yourself what’s truly yours to carry, and what you may have picked up out of habit, obligation, or fear. Notice what feels heavy and what feels light. Let go of the idea that change has to be big, because sometimes the smallest shifts are the most profound. And trust that clarity will come, not all at once, but in pieces, in conversations, and in quiet mornings.

This year didn’t go the way I planned. But it gave me something better than a plan. It gave me perspective.

I learned that breakdowns aren’t the end. They’re often the beginning. That pausing isn't a weakness. It’s wisdom. And that change doesn’t always come with fireworks. Sometimes, it arrives softly. Through a whisper. A nudge. A moment of stillness.

So if you’re tired, uncertain, or just quietly wondering if it’s time to do things differently, this is your sign.

It’s time to change.

And maybe, just maybe, the first step is to stop, look up, and smile!