The Messy Middle
My husband and I moved to a new house last week.
It was planned — we weren’t evicted or anything! But it wasn’t the kind of move where you just call a truck and relax. It was the kind where you spend weeks packing and purging and organizing. And then months unpacking and purging and re-organizing.
It's exciting, but also exhausting. And it’s a clear reminder that change — even when it's positive — isn’t always (meaning rarely) comfortable.
We decided to trade our 2-bedroom condo and weekends on the boat for an acreage with gardens, projects, room for the grandkids to play and space for the family to hang out by the fire-pit. It wasn't a downsize. It was a re-alignment. A deliberate decision about what we want the next chapter to be for.
And it still knocked me flat.
Our routines are scrambled. The patterns I didn't even know I had are mixed up. I reach for something and have no idea which drawer it's in. There's lots of joy and laughter — but there's also tiredness, confusion, and frustration. Like when the internet keeps crashing!
The older I get though, the more I realize that every meaningful transition contains both joy and chaos. And it’s the same in business.
As entrepreneurs, we're encouraged to pursue growth. We want larger markets, stronger teams, increased revenue, new opportunities, successful acquisitions and even more successful exits. Transitions we plan for and aspire to.
But then the messy middle arrives, and we’re blindsided.
What we don't plan for is the disruption that growth creates. The systems that worked when you had five employees probably won’t work when you have twenty-five. The processes that helped you through that initial phase of growth may actually prevent you from reaching the next.
For a period of time, growth may feel less efficient, less organized, and more stressful than simply staying where you’re at — where you’re comfortable. And it’s easy to assume that chaos means something’s wrong. But sometimes it’s just evidence that you're in transition.
When I look at the pile of boxes left to unpack and wonder what the heck we were thinking, I walk outside, look across the property, and remember what we're working towards. I picture family gatherings, gardens full of veggies and flowers, and friends gathered by the bbq on a summer evening.
The temporary disruption suddenly makes sense. The vision provides context for the discomfort.
Business growth works the same way. If you don't have a clear picture of where you're headed, every challenge feels like a reason to stop. Every setback feels like proof your decision was wrong.
But when the destination is clear, you and your business can endure a surprising amount of temporary discomfort. The question isn't whether growth creates chaos. The question is whether it’s serving a purpose.
One of the things that's carried me through this move are the friends who've already done something similar and can say, yup, that's normal, keep going. The other people I know who are crazy enough to take on the challenge of upsizing rather than downsizing.
That's the whole point of a TEC peer group. You have a room full of business leaders who've been through their own messy middle and don't flinch when you describe yours. Advice and ideas from someone who unpacked their own boxes just last year, and is happy to share their story.
I'll get the boxes unpacked and the gardens planted. And someday soon, the family will fill up all that space I traded the boat for. I know it was the right call.