The Beauty of the Liminal Space
Standing between my old self and the one I'm growing into.
Today, I came across the phrase liminal space, and I realized that’s exactly where I am in life right now.
A liminal space is that in-between place, the threshold you stand on before stepping into something new. You have not fully left the old room, and you have not yet fully entered the next one. It’s that strange, soft middle where things feel unsettled but also full of possibility. Nothing is defined, but everything is shifting.
Honestly, this feels like my entire year. And especially this month, I can feel this in-between more so than ever.
This year, we have had tough days with no help. Long nights with a restless toddler. Work that stretches into late evenings. Family dynamics that take energy I don’t always have. A sense of trying to build a life in a country that still doesn’t fully feel like home. And more inner work than I’ve done in decades. Realisations, feelings, emotions and dreams are pouring in everyday.
I am seeing places where I have lived out of alignment. I am seeing parts of my life that were built from conditioning rather than my own desires. I am noticing how long I have ignored my own needs and wants because I thought I had to fit a version of myself that no longer exists.
And while I can see the new version of me forming at the edges, I haven’t fully dropped the old version yet. I know what I want for my life, but I am not there yet. My priorities have changed, but the old habits… they still linger. My body is craving rest, but my conditioning still whispers, push harder. My soul is dreaming bigger, but my calendar still pulls me into the old rhythm.
This is what a liminal space feels like.
You sense that the old life is falling away, even if it has not disappeared.
You sense that the new life is arriving, even if it has not taken shape.
Your inner world is rearranging itself in ways you cannot name yet.
It’s uncomfortable. And strangely beautiful.
The liminal space is where you can’t go back, but you’re not ready to leap forward either. It’s where your inner world is rearranging itself quietly, slowly, in ways you don’t fully understand yet.
And this December, I just want to embrace this liminal space.
I just want to rest, listen, daydream, enjoy my child… breathe.
I want to start forming a clear picture of my aligned life that I’m moving towards.
I want work that feels meaningful. Work that lets me go in-depth with people and stories. Work that feels human, creative, emotional, and real. Work that allows me to travel, speak to people, gather their stories, and shape them into something that matters. I want flexibility and freedom. I want a team that feels like a spiritual family. I want financial ease, comfort, and space for my family to breathe. I want a life shaped around who I actually am, not who I thought I had to be.
Saying it out loud already feels like alignment.
And to really embrace this liminal space, I have decided to build something without a marketing or business purpose. Just something close to my heart. A living archive of emotionally honest stories from women. From stories of anxiety to body image to life transitions and grief, I want to curate stories from women around the world with a hope that reading them might give someone else a sense of connection and compassion and maybe spark self-discovery of their own. This is what I’m slowly working on in my downtime.
I don’t know exactly where all of this is leading, and for the first time, I’m not trying to control that. I’m letting December be my liminal month. I’m letting myself feel the in-between without forcing the next step.
If you’re in a liminal space too
Embrace it. Enjoy this transitional phase. Do something that bridges the old and new (without pressure).
It might be uncomfortable, but it’s also full of possibility.
And sometimes the most important thing you can do is exactly what I’m learning to do: slow down enough to hear what your life is trying to tell you next.