When everything feels overwhelming and uncertain, it's natural to crave direction. But what happens when there isn't a clear roadmap forward? In today's episode, I share a vulnerable moment of breakdown and explore how we navigate life's liminal spaces - those uncomfortable thresholds between what was and what will be.
On Liminal Spaces
Recently, a follower shared an article about "liminal space" that perfectly described what so many of us are experiencing. The term "liminal" comes from the Latin word for "threshold" - it's that uncertain transition between where you've been and where you're going.
Physical liminal spaces like stairwells, airports, or hallways are designed to get you from one place to another, not for you to linger in indefinitely. Yet emotionally, many of us find ourselves stuck in these in-between places.
I'm not who I was before my divorce, but I'm still figuring out who I'm becoming. I'm not in my old career, but haven't fully established my new one. I don't have my own place, but know this isn't my permanent living situation. So many in-betweens. So many messy middles.
Our brains crave certainty and predictability, which explains why these threshold spaces feel so uncomfortable. But they can also be incredibly transformative - think about how many of our favorite stories are essentially about characters navigating their own liminal spaces.
The Broken Social Contract
For many millennials (and perhaps everyone), there's a deep frustration in realizing that the social contract we were promised has changed. We were told: go to college, get a degree, work hard, and you'll have stability. You'll have a career, a home, financial security.
But the truth is, many of us have done everything "right" and still find ourselves struggling with housing insecurity, financial instability, and uncertain futures. The goalposts keep moving farther away, and the rules keep changing.
It's okay to feel angry about this. It's okay to grieve the expectations you had, the certainty you thought would be there if you just followed the path laid out for you.
When There Isn't a Map
During my separation and divorce, I desperately wanted someone to give me a manual - follow these five steps and everything will be okay. I feel the same way now about rebuilding my life. Tell me what to do. How do I get from here to there?
But there isn't a map. There just isn't.
What I'm learning - what I keep learning over and over - is that sometimes we can't see the big picture, the final destination, because we don't have all the pieces yet. Sometimes it feels impossible to imagine because we literally don't have the experience and perspective for that vision to clarify.
So you have to just keep moving forward, making the next right step, even when you can't see where all the steps will lead.
The Duality of Healing
One of the hardest parts of sharing my journey online is reconciling the duality of my experience. I talk about how I'm recovering and rebuilding, how life is better than it was before, how I'm healing and growing.
And all that stuff IS true. I have healed. I have grown. I am stronger and more myself than I've ever been.
But so is the stuff that's still hard. The grief about possibly not having kids. The uncertainty about my future. The frustration with where I am versus where I thought I'd be.
Sometimes I feel like a fraud because of this duality. But I'm realizing that both realities can be true simultaneously. I can be grateful for my growth while still acknowledging that things are really hard right now.
The Only Way Out Is Through
The one truth I keep coming back to - during my divorce, during these moments of uncertainty now - is that the only way out is through.
It's not the detailed roadmap I want. It doesn't tell me exactly what to do or guarantee where I'll end up. But it's the truth that has carried me this far.
Making the next right choice, even when you don't want to. Showing up. Finding tiny, microscopic glimmers. Some days, just getting through the day is enough. Some days, the next right step is just getting out of bed, or calling a friend, or allowing yourself to cry.
What Support Looks Like
When I sat down crying with my parents, they gave me exactly what I needed. They didn't try to minimize my pain or rush me to feel better. They didn't offer empty platitudes about how everything happens for a reason.
They offered validation about what I was feeling. They let me get it all out without trying to make it smaller than it was. They sat with me in that messy, uncomfortable space of not having answers.
That's real support - not toxic positivity, not rushing to solutions, but just being present with someone in their struggle.
Journal Prompts for This Week
Where in your life are you experiencing liminal space right now? What threshold are you standing on?
What difficult emotions are you avoiding sitting with? How might allowing yourself to feel them actually help you move forward?
When have you navigated something difficult without a clear path before? What did that teach you about your own resilience?
What would it look like to validate your current struggles while still acknowledging how far you've come?
What is one small, concrete "next right step" you can take today, even if you can't see the whole path?
Glimmers
The way my dogs cuddle up when I cry, knowing exactly what I need
The synchronization of candle flames moving together
Pancakes for dinner - petition for more breakfast-for-dinner!
A driver who saw me struggling to change lanes and intentionally made space for me
The comfort of my parents' living room, a safe space even when witnessing painful moments
If you're in it right now - if you're feeling lost or stuck or like you're in a desert with no landmarks in front of you - I don't have a roadmap for you, but I will walk with you. We will figure it out together.
The only way to get there is through. And if you cry, it does help a little bit.
What liminal spaces are you navigating right now? I'd love to hear in the comments.
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