Shedding: Part 2
What we lose, what we gain, and the sacred space in between
Shedding is Sacred
What I’ve learned over the last four years is this: anyone committed to their personal or professional evolution will go through cycles of shedding. These moments aren’t just uncomfortable—they can be gut-wrenching.
Because they often involve people you once loved, trusted, and believed in.
Here’s a truth I’ve come to accept: the more we grow, the more space we take up in the Universe. And not everyone is meant to rise with us.
Growth demands that we show up more fully—more unapologetically—for the people we are here to impact. And as our light expands, our circle must evolve to support that light.
We cannot ascend if we’re tethered to people who are not only unwilling to rise, but who—whether intentionally or not—diminish our light in the process.
The Grief of Growth
Every shedding cycle brings grief—a kind I’ve come to know intimately.
Because it’s not always one dramatic moment that causes us to let go. Sometimes it’s a pattern we can no longer ignore.
As I’ve grown—both personally and professionally—I’ve come to recognize certain behaviors that no longer have a place in my world. And while each situation was different, the deeper pattern was the same: misalignment. Disrespect. A lack of integrity.
One major pattern I’ve noticed—especially in the New Orleans business community—is the chronic lack of follow-through. I can’t count how many times someone has approached me with grand ideas about a potential collaboration, only to disappear when it was time to act. I’d get hopeful, inspired, and sometimes even emotionally invested—only to be let down by empty words and no follow-through. It’s a cultural pattern here that I’ve had to learn not to take personally, but one that’s deeply disappointing nonetheless.
So here are just a few examples of the kinds of shedding that have shaped this season of growth—not to call anyone out, but to name the lessons for what they are.
It started with girlfriends I believed cared about me—but in hindsight, they were more interested in the status of association and access to my jewelry than a real friendship.
Next were the contract workers—those who couldn’t see the bigger picture, or simply didn’t care enough to contribute meaningfully. Then there was someone I once viewed as a mentor, whose guidance eventually turned into constant criticism, with no openness to fresh ideas or evolving perspectives. An agency followed—one that clearly didn’t have my back, making decisions that served their interests more than mine.
Eventually, I even had to cut ties with a customer who crossed major personal boundaries—someone who drained my team’s energy with passive-aggressive demands and an unhealthy fixation on my personal life.
And for those who want to dive deeper, I’ll be sharing a follow up to this post—a paid, behind-the-scenes edition of the moments I didn’t include here. Think of it as the deleted scenes—more personal, more specific, and more raw. It’s a way to offer more value while also protecting the privacy of those whose chapters have closed in my story.
And yes, it hurt. Every time.
Because I wasn’t just letting go of people—I was letting go of the dreams I once had for those relationships. The roles I hoped they would play. The trust I gave, freely.
But I’ve learned that grief is not a punishment—it’s part of the purification.
The Empty Space That Follows
This is the first time in my life I’ve been actively protective of my energy, my inner circle, and my team. I’m no longer waiting for the Universe to filter people out for me—I’m making those choices intentionally.
I’m asking: Who deserves to be part of this ascension?
Because rising isn’t just about personal success—it’s about who we bring with us, who we support, and who we allow to support us.
It’s about reciprocity. Trust. Integrity. Shared vision.
I’m learning to be okay with the pain of shedding—because I know what’s on the other side: peace, alignment, partnership. It’s soul-level support.
So if you’re going through a shedding season of your own, I want you to know: it’s okay to grieve. But don’t fear the empty space that follows. That space is sacred.
It’s the space where something better will bloom.
Mutual, Soul-Level Commitment
Another reason I’ve become so intentional about who I allow into my inner circle isn’t just about receiving support—it’s about being able to give it.
This season of my life has called me into a new level of discernment. Not just to protect my peace, but to elevate the idea of selectiveness into a mutual, soul-level commitment.
Because my bandwidth—like yours—is sacred and limited. I can’t show up fully for everyone. And I no longer want to stretch myself thin trying to pour into connections that aren’t truly aligned.
The people who are making a real, conscious effort to be part of my life—to be true friends, to help shape me or my business, to rise with me—deserve my full presence. They deserve someone who is in it with them. Who listens, supports, and celebrates them with intention.
That’s the kind of friend, leader, and partner I aspire to be.
In a world that often confuses proximity for connection, I’m choosing depth. I’m choosing mutual devotion. Because the relationships that matter most are the ones built on love, trust, and purpose.
And I hope you choose this, too, for you.
If You’re Shedding, You’re Not Alone
Here’s what I’ve learned, and maybe it will serve you too: growth demands release.
You can’t take everyone with you.
And that’s not a failure—it’s a natural, necessary part of becoming who you’re meant to be.
Every time you let go of someone who can’t meet you where you are, you’re choosing alignment over obligation. Every time you choose to protect your peace instead of clinging to old roles, you’re honoring your purpose. And yes—it’s hard. It will cost you pieces of your past. It might even break your heart.
But you’re not breaking down. You’re breaking open.
You’re creating space—not just for better people, but for a better version of you to emerge. A version that doesn’t just survive—but leads, heals, and thrives with clarity.
So if you’re in a shedding season, trust it. You’re not doing it wrong.
You’re doing the hard, holy work of becoming.
And yet… there are still things I haven’t said.
Not because I’m afraid, but because some stories require more space—and more trust—to be told honestly. The truth behind certain relationships. The moments that broke my heart open. The lessons that came at a cost.
In my follow up post, Shedding: Deleted Scenes, I’ll share the parts I’ve kept close until now—the stories that shaped me the most, but didn’t fit in the frame of this post. It's for those who want to understand the full picture. The ones who know that growth doesn’t just happen in the light—but in the shadows, too.
This post will be for paid subscribers only, because some truths deserve to be held with care.
Acknowledgements
I want to take a moment to extend my heartfelt thanks to a few people who’ve deeply impacted my journey—both as a writer and as a woman finding her voice again.
To fellow Substack author James Bailey, writer of On Money and Meaning—thank you. Since launching my publication in the spring of 2024, James has been one of my first readers and most thoughtful voices in the comments. The way he writes—so grounded, so open-hearted—reminds me that true expression is a gift.
Recently, when I was wrestling with the “why” behind my writing and doubting the value of my words, James shared something with me that I’ll never forget:
“I heard a saying from someone on Substack a while back that ‘somewhere in the world there is a person with a hole in their heart in the exact shape of your words.’ This is my reminder that my words matter.”
That line hit me like Cupid’s arrow—suddenly, I was falling in love with writing all over again. James, thank you for adding so much light and color to my life with your words and presence.
To my beloved partner, Devin—thank you for being the mirror I didn’t know I needed. Your love, your steadiness, and your fierce devotion ground me in ways I struggle to describe. You have a way of delivering truth that pierces through noise and lands with clarity. Thank you for walking beside me on this path with so much grace and strength.
To my mentor, David—thank you for constantly reminding me of a truth I’m still learning to live by: that it’s none of my business what other people think of me. That all that really matters is staying true to what’s in my heart. Your accountability, your wisdom, and your faith in me have shaped so much of the woman I am becoming.
To my inner professional circle—Fatima, Sol, Diana, Vieta, and Simon—thank you. You each show up in ways that matter deeply. I see your effort, your belief in the work we’re doing, and your shared vision for this journey. Your support is not just felt—it’s foundational. I trust you, I honor you, and I’m so grateful to have you walking beside me.
And to my parents—thank you for honoring the space I’ve needed to live my life on my own terms. Thank you for respecting my choices, for not intervening when you could have, and for simply loving me through it all. Your quiet support, your presence, and your trust have meant more to me than words can say. That, in itself, has always been enough.
About The Author
Cristy Cali is an introspective writer, award-winning entrepreneur, and renowned jewelry designer, weaving together the soulful lessons of life, love, and entrepreneurship. With roots deeply planted in Guatemala and New Orleans, Cristy's writing explores personal growth, healing, and the emotional wisdom gained from building a thriving 7-figure jewelry brand.
Follow her journey on Instagram and TikTok, or join Cristy’s Beloved Club on Facebook for deeper community connection.
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