Between Two Worlds

Why transitions feel heavy — and how to stay with yourself while nothing is settled yet

There is a particular kind of tiredness

that doesn’t come from doing too much,

but from not knowing where you belong anymore.

Nothing is clearly wrong.

And yet, nothing feels right.

You are no longer who you were —

but you are not yet who you are becoming.

This is the space in between.

And it can feel tender, confusing, unbearably heavy at times.

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The quiet weight of in-between times

There are moments in life when the ground beneath you hasn’t disappeared,

but it has softened.

A relationship is ending, but not quite over.

A new job is approaching, but not here yet.

You are packing boxes — or slowly unpacking a version of yourself you no longer recognize.

Your old identity doesn’t fit,

and the new one hasn’t found its shape.

Outwardly, life continues.

Inwardly, everything feels suspended.

This is what psychologists sometimes call liminal stress —

the emotional strain of being between worlds.

And it’s not a flaw.

It’s not weakness.

It’s a natural response to uncertainty and change.

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Why transitions affect us so deeply

The human nervous system longs for orientation.

For patterns. For familiarity. For something steady to lean on.

Transitions gently remove those anchors.

In liminal spaces:

• the past no longer feels safe enough to return to,

• the future hasn’t taken form yet,

• and the present feels thin, unfinished, hard to stand on.

Your system stays alert, searching for ground.

Your thoughts circle.Your body tightens.

Your emotions arrive without clear names.

This isn’t because you’re failing.

It’s because you are crossing something real.

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The ache of not knowing who you are — yet

Often, the hardest part isn’t the external change,but the internal one.

You may notice:

• less confidence than before,

• more sensitivity than usual,

• uncertainty around what you want,

• uncertainty around who you are allowed to be now.

And quietly, questions arise:

Why am I so unsettled?

Why can’t I just move on?

Why does this feel heavier than it should?

But liminal spaces aren’t meant to be efficient.

They are meant to be transformative.

Something old is loosening.

Something new is gathering — slowly, quietly, out of sight.

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How to stay with yourself when nothing is clear yet

You don’t need to rush your way out of the in-between.

You don’t need to have answers.

What helps instead is gentle presence.

Here are some soft ways to remain anchored while the larger picture is still forming:

🌿 Name the space you’re in

Simply acknowledging:

“I am in transition”

can bring unexpected relief.

It gives meaning to the discomfort and softens self-judgment.

🌿 Create small islands of familiarity

A morning ritual.

A favorite mug.

A daily walk.

When everything else is changing, small consistencies help your nervous system rest.

🌿 Let uncertainty exist without interpretation

Not every feeling needs to lead to a decision.

Some emotions are just passing through —

they don’t need to be solved or explained.

🌿 Stay in the body

Transitions live in the nervous system.

Gentle movement, stretching, warm showers, slow breathing

can help you feel grounded when your mind is spinning.

🌿 Lower the demand to understand

You don’t need to know why this is happening yet.

Sometimes meaning arrives later — after the crossing.

🌿 Speak to yourself as someone in transition

Not as someone behind.

Not as someone broken.

But as someone standing at a threshold.

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A gentle truth about the in-between

Liminal spaces often feel empty.

But they are not voids.

They are thresholds.

They ask you to slow down.

To listen differently.

To allow yourself to be unfinished for a while.

You are not lost here.

You are becoming.

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And finally…

If you are standing between what was and what will be,

tired of waiting,

unsure of your footing —

let this be enough for now:

You don’t have to know who you’ll be on the other side.

You only have to stay kind to the version of you who is here.

This space may feel uncertain.

But it is quietly shaping you.

And even here —

especially here —

you are allowed to be held.

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