New Beginnings and the Beauty of Being Where Your Feet Are

By a Psychotherapist Who’s Been There Too

There’s something quietly powerful about the words: “being where your feet are.” A close friend once said this to me during a time of transition, when everything felt uncertain and overwhelming. It was one of those phrases that instantly resonated—like my nervous system exhaled just hearing it. It stuck with me. And now, I often offer it to clients who are walking their own uncertain roads.

Whether you’re starting over in a new job, adjusting to a relationship change, moving to a new city, or simply trying something unfamiliar—new beginnings carry a strange mix of hope and vulnerability.

We often imagine change as a clean break from the past, a crisp page waiting to be written. But the reality is usually much messier. Beginnings aren’t always shiny. They’re awkward, uncertain, and often come bundled with grief for what we left behind—even when we chose to leave it.

Why New Beginnings Are So Unsettling

Even positive change can activate our stress response. That’s because our brains are wired for familiarity—it feels safe. Newness, by contrast, invites the unknown. It challenges old habits, threatens our sense of control, and asks us to be vulnerable all over again.

In therapy, I see this all the time: a client excited to start dating again after heartbreak, but overwhelmed with anxiety. A new parent thrilled to welcome a child but suddenly flooded with self-doubt. A professional finally landing a dream role but waking up each morning with imposter syndrome.

It’s all normal. Growth and discomfort are often traveling companions.

But here’s where honesty comes in.

The Role of Honesty in Moving Forward

We can’t move forward if we’re not willing to be honest about where we are—and what’s holding us back. Sometimes we stay stuck not because the past is better, but because the story we’ve built around it feels safer than the vulnerability of stepping into something new.

That story might sound like:

“I’m just not someone who thrives in relationships.”

“It’s always been this way for me.”

“If I try again, I’ll only get hurt.”

These narratives may have once protected us, but they can quietly become prisons. Real change—sustainable, embodied change—requires the courage to challenge old beliefs, to speak truthfully with ourselves, and to be open to rewriting the script.

Practicing Presence: “Be Where Your Feet Are”

So how do we navigate new beginnings without becoming overwhelmed or stuck in fear?

Start by anchoring yourself in the present moment—literally. “Be where your feet are” means choosing to focus on the ground beneath you. Not the what-ifs of tomorrow or the should-haves of yesterday, but the now.

Here’s how you can practice that:

Name What’s Real

Pause and notice what’s happening right now. What can you feel under your feet? What do you hear? What are you carrying emotionally in this moment? Naming things brings them out of the fog and into the light.

Slow Down the Storytelling

New situations trigger old narratives. But just because a thought shows up doesn’t make it true. Practice noticing the story without automatically believing it. Ask yourself: Is this truth, or is this fear speaking?

Breathe Intentionally

One deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, can reset your nervous system and ground you. Repeat as needed. This isn’t just feel-good advice—it’s neuroscience.

Compassion Over Criticism

Be kind to the version of you that’s learning something new. If you wouldn’t speak harshly to a friend just starting out, don’t do it to yourself.

Celebrate Micro-Wins

Everything doesn’t have to be figured out at once. Notice and honor the small victories: showing up, trying again, asking for help, resting when needed.

The Gift Inside the Struggle

Here’s the truth: beginnings are brave. Whether it’s starting therapy, writing your first poem, or learning to live differently after loss—every fresh start carries risk and reward. We grow not by avoiding discomfort, but by meeting it with honesty, curiosity, and grace.

If you’re in the messy middle of something new, you’re not alone. You don’t have to have it all together. Just take one moment at a time, and let your feet remind you that this moment is enough.