It feels like I have been doing a lot of nesting since September began. To the point where it feels like I have moved into a new home. There are trips to Goodwill, boxes in the garage, furniture moving around, and measuring tape, hammers, and nails laying on the dining room table.

I definitely celebrate the new year in September, not December. September always feels like the start of something new.

The kids have new teachers, and it is clear that they have grown. They need new clothes and shoes, and it’s not only their size that has changed. Their interests, styles, and behavior are clearly different, too.

They are becoming new versions of themselves right in front of me. Honestly, it is exciting. But it also pulls on my heartstrings. My sweet heart hurts.

It’s one thing when I’m too busy or full to really feel it. But when it’s right in my face, I know it’s showing up for a reason.

The first thing I notice is loss. Something that once was is no longer there. Along with loss comes a feeling of missing something or lacking. It’s a tough spot to be in if I stay stuck in this version of the story.
Because what if change doesn’t always mean something has been taken away? What if something else is happening?

The Nest

I looked up the word nesting and found two definitions:

1: to build or occupy a nest; settle in or as if in a nest
2: to fit compactly together or within one another; embed

— Merriam-Webster

I have realized over the years that I love to decorate. I love home renovation shows and want to switch up my space. Walking around HomeGoods and getting inspired, shopping, or trying things out is one of my favorite ways to express myself creatively.

Plus, I love a cozy home.

The fact that this year I added an additional layer of work—even though I love it—to an already full September hasn’t escaped me. I wondered about it while I was doing it, but I also didn’t want to stop. I quite literally felt like I was nesting.

Nesting comes up often when you are pregnant. You are welcoming something new, and there is a desire to make sure the home is safe and ready.

It is part exciting, part scary, and there are so many emotions during the time of becoming a mother or welcoming a baby into the world. That knowing that life will never be the same again hits hard.

Even if it’s a dream come true, there is grief. Something is changing. And I think this is what I have been feeling.
Not necessarily that something is wrong. Not even that I don’t want what is coming. But that I can feel the versions of my life that I have known shifting underneath me.

My kids are growing. I am growing. Our family is growing into something slightly different.

That’s why I have been so drawn to nesting. I am trying to make sense of the change by creating a new space for it. Making room for what is coming.

The Nesting Doll
Here’s where that second definition comes in:

To fit compactly together or within one another.

That definition has been jumping out at me. It paints a very different picture than the first. The first feels familiar.

There is a change coming. Space may be left. Something new is arriving and something that used to be there is no longer there. Cue the story, the judgment, and suddenly I am flooded with feelings of loss and emptiness.

But the second definition offers another possibility. Nesting doesn’t necessarily mean removing or replacing. It can mean fitting together. One thing within another.
And it makes me think of Russian nesting dolls. The smaller doll doesn’t disappear when the bigger one comes along. It is still there. It is simply held differently. It rests within the bigger version.

Let that land for a moment.

Picturing your own unique season of change, growth, and even loss, imagine that the coziness of a new space is not about tossing out the old and sending it to Goodwill.

There is nothing wrong with Goodwill, of course, things really do need to go. But I’m talking about the love or security you might feel you’re losing when a season of grief or change arises.

What if the new doesn’t erase the old? What if it just holds it differently?

I realize now that growth doesn’t always mean letting go, but becoming bigger – big enough to hold more than one way of living or being.
The old and the new. The grief and the excitement. Who we were and who we’re becoming. Rather than letting go and getting rid, I can see it as another layer of myself.

Creative Layers

Nesting shows up in my creative work as well. Whether it’s writing, sketching, or decorating. I can see myself present in the process and curious…

What if this could go here instead? What if I start and see what happens? What if I kept this and let go of that? I’m not following a plan. I’m in the flow and that allows me to see the same things differently.

Somewhere in the process, something shifts—not necessarily in the thing I’m making, but in the way I’m seeing.
This nesting season, I wasn’t just rearranging my home. I was practicing the way I naturally think creatively: make space, get curious, move things around, and see what becomes possible.

For years, though, I have held this in and hidden it even from myself. Mostly, out of fear and definitely out of lack of space.

I now know it doesn’t have to replace anything. It doesn’t mean I have to become someone different or make my life less full. It can simply become another layer of who I am.

This is why The Closet Creatives exists and means so much to me. I know what it feels like to have that expressive part hidden in fear and shame, yet waiting for the “perfect” time to show up. I also know what happens when I finally make a little space for it.

I see differently. My black and white thinking shifts to a rainbow of colorful possibilities. I feel free, quite literally able to laugh and enjoy more. And I find another layer of who I am or who I forgot existed.

With love and light,
Orly