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Navigating the Void Between Who You Were and Who You’re Becoming
Work/Life Balance

Navigating the Void Between Who You Were and Who You’re Becoming 

Olivia Pool

There’s an important chapter of life that often gets glossed over in our modern world. It’s the time and space in between one version of yourself and the next. It’s the ooey gooey cocoon phase of metamorphosis. You’ve outgrown a version of yourself—maybe a relationship, an identity, a dream, a way you’ve been showing up in the world—but you haven’t quite stepped into what’s next yet. You’re in between stories. In between skins.

This space can feel quiet and weird and often lonely. You might feel untethered—like you’re floating between dimensions with no map. You’re not who you used to be, but you’re not quite sure who you’re becoming either. Sound familiar? I feel like I have spent soooo much time in this very uncomfortable space of “no longer” and “not yet.” Perhaps you’ve seen the meme that says, “I’ve attended over a hundred funerals this year. All of them were mine” (author unknown). It’s normal for versions or aspects of us to come to an end and new ones to form. We are built for this natural evolution of birth, growth, death, rebirth. It’s how it’s supposed to be—but that doesn’t make it easy!

I like to call this in-between space “the void.” Not because it’s empty, but because it’s full of potential. It’s a place of deep listening, of recalibrating, of letting go. It’s often tender here; disorienting, confusing, sometimes weirdly peaceful and quiet, but it’s also full of possibility. 

Whatever your personal experience of it is, this is a sacred time and space, because it is your own personal cocoon, your own personal decomposition and recomposition.

Our culture doesn’t always honor the pause. We like clear goals, fast answers, and productivity. But becoming who you’re meant to be often requires a season of not-knowing. Of stillness. Of trusting something new is coming—even when you can’t see it yet.

If you find yourself in “the void,” here are a few practical suggestions that may assist you in being a bit more graceful through this process:

  • Stop trying to figure it all out. You’re not a problem to be solved. You’re a gorgeous process unfolding. 
  • Honor and have gratitude for what’s leaving—especially if it’s painful. 
  • Let the new come in on its own timeline. You can’t rush a seed to sprout. 
  • Get into your body. Walk, stretch, dance, rest, breathe. Your body often knows before your mind does. 
  • Talk to someone who can hold sacred space for your process—a good friend, a therapist, a coach, your private journal. 
  • If you can take the time away, go somewhere safe and nurturing to just be with yourself.  
  • Don’t fill this void space too quickly. You might be tempted to jump into the next thing just to escape the discomfort. Pause. Wait. Feel. You’ll know when it’s time to move and what to do next. 

This is not wasted time. It’s essential time. It’s compost time. It’s the essential growth under the surface that is necessary for the sprout and later the bloom.

So if you find yourself in the void right now—breathe into it. You’re in transition. You’re becoming. Let it be tender. Let it be weird. Let it be real.

You don’t have to know exactly who you’re becoming yet. It’s part of the Great Mystery!

Just keep listening.

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