There are moments in life when something inside you shifts long before the outside reflects it. You make a decision — quietly or boldly — that the version of you who lived that life is no longer who you are becoming. You sense that something is ending, even if nothing has “collapsed.” You feel pulled toward a truer expression of yourself, even if you can’t fully name what it looks like yet. This is how every becoming journey begins: not with proof, but with an inner knowing.

And yet, between the clarity of that decision and the reality that eventually mirrors it back to you, there is a phase that almost no one talks about. The in‑between. The space where you are no longer who you were, but not yet living as who you are becoming. This is not a failure phase. It is not a waiting room. It is a deeply creative, deeply initiatory season — one that asks for trust, patience, and nervous system safety more than force or certainty.

We move through many becoming journeys in a lifetime. Some are brief and subtle. Others stretch over months or years. Becoming a mother reshaped my identity over the course of three years, not three weeks. Seasonal transitions — like winter — invite shorter, more contained arcs of becoming. The in‑between shows up again and again, because transformation is not a one‑time event. It is a rhythm of shedding, emptying, remembering, and re‑embodying.

What the In‑Between Feels Like

The in‑between often feels paradoxical. On one hand, there is clarity. You know what no longer fits. You sense the frequency of who you are becoming. You may even feel moments of deep alignment, peace, or embodied truth. On the other hand, there is very little external confirmation. The life you desire has not yet arrived. The results you imagined are not visible. The old structures may already be dissolving, while the new ones have not yet taken form.

This can create emotional tension. Grief for what you are releasing. Excitement for what feels possible. Fear that you are “doing it wrong” because nothing seems to be happening yet. The mind looks for evidence, while the body is still learning to hold a new identity. This is often where doubt creeps in — not because your becoming is wrong, but because the nervous system is being asked to stay open without certainty.

The in‑between asks you to live from an internal truth before it becomes externally validated. That alone is a radical act.

Journal prompt:
What am I currently releasing — and what am I beginning to sense wants to emerge in its place?

The Purpose of the In‑Between

Nothing about the in‑between is accidental. This phase exists because something very specific is happening beneath the surface. You are being emptied of what no longer belongs to you — beliefs, identities, habits, timelines, roles that once kept you safe but now keep you small. This emptying is not loss. It is preparation. A vessel cannot receive the new while it is still full of the old.

At the same time, your nervous system is recalibrating. Identity is not just a mindset; it is a somatic state. Your body is learning what it feels like to exist without certain pressures, patterns, or self‑abandonment. Your system is practicing safety in new ways of being — more visible, more rested, more truthful, more expansive.

Subtle decisions begin to shift here. You choose differently. You speak differently. You act with slightly more intention. These choices may feel insignificant, but they carry a different energetic signature. Like the butterfly effect, they compound quietly, reshaping your lived experience long before the outcome becomes obvious.

Ritual:
Once a week, create a “sacred emptying” practice. Journal what you are done carrying. Pair it with gentle movement or breath to signal to your body that release is safe.

Why It’s So Hard to Stay Here

The mind wants speed. The ego wants proof. Conditioning teaches us that transformation must be visible to be real. The in‑between offers none of that. Instead, it offers ambiguity, slowness, and deep internal work — which can feel unbearable when you’ve been trained to equate worth with output.

This is often the moment when people turn back. Not because the path is wrong, but because it feels too quiet. Too unvalidated. Too slow. Familiar discomfort suddenly feels safer than unfamiliar alignment. And so old patterns try to reassert themselves, whispering that maybe it was easier before.

But leaving the in‑between too early doesn’t return you to safety — it returns you to repetition. Staying is what allows the integration to complete.

Somatic practice:
Place one hand on your heart and one on your belly. Breathe slowly and repeat: “I am safe in the space between who I was and who I am becoming.”

How to Stay Anchored in Your Becoming

Staying anchored does not mean performing your future self perfectly. It means returning to her again and again with devotion, not discipline. Choose one small daily action that aligns with who you are becoming — not to produce results, but to build trust with yourself. This might look like beginning your day slowly, speaking more honestly, dressing with intention, or honoring your energy instead of overriding it.

Let identity lead your decisions. When faced with a choice, ask: What would the version of me I’m becoming choose here? This doesn’t require grand gestures. It requires consistency in orientation — a steady leaning toward truth.

Consistency is not rigidity. It is a love language. You will wobble. You will forget. You will have days where the old self resurfaces. Consistency simply means you return. Again and again.

Journal prompt:
What is one micro‑action I can return to daily that reminds me of who I am becoming?

Trusting the Timeline

Your becoming unfolds at the pace your body can sustain. The timeline is not a punishment. It is a form of intelligence. If the life you desire arrived instantly, would your nervous system know how to hold it? Would it feel safe, or overwhelming?

Often, what feels like delay is actually preparation. The pause allows your capacity to expand so that when the result arrives, it doesn’t destabilize you. Trusting the timeline means trusting your body’s wisdom — not forcing outcomes before your system is ready.

Practice:
Write a letter from your future self — the version of you who has already crossed this threshold. Let her remind you why the timing mattered.

What Happens When You Stay

The shift is rarely dramatic at first. It is quiet. Then one day, you notice that your life feels different. Decisions feel easier. Your energy feels more stable. You respond instead of react. And slowly, reality reorganizes itself around the identity you have already embodied.

The in‑between is where the roots grow. It is not wasted time. It is where becoming becomes real.

Closing reflection:
What proof do I already have that I am evolving — even if no one else can see it yet?

Walking With Your Becoming

You don’t have to rush this season. You don’t have to force clarity or manufacture momentum. Staying with your becoming — especially when nothing is happening yet — is the work.

If you want support in anchoring your identity, regulating your nervous system, and embodying your next self gently and sustainably, explore Becoming Her, my 3-day self‑led somatic portal into identity alchemy. You can also deepen this work through journaling and embodiment practices designed to meet you exactly where you are.

You’re not behind.
You’re not stuck.
You’re becoming.