The In-Between Time: Life After Endings, Before the Ground is Steady Again
There are seasons in life when the old chapter has closed, but the new one hasn’t quite begun.
You’ve left the marriage.
Your children have launched.
Your parent has died.
Your body has shifted.
Your hormones, identity, and rhythms feel unfamiliar.
And everyone keeps saying, “You’ve got this. You’re strong. Life goes on.”
And yes, it does.
But what they don’t say enough is this:
Sometimes, we need time to catch up to our own lives.
Welcome to the In-Between
This strange, liminal space—the in-between time—isn’t often talked about. It’s the space after a big ending but before a new beginning has taken root. You might feel untethered, exhausted, hopeful, grieving, curious, raw, and relieved all at once.
It’s not quite grief.
Not quite reinvention.
But something tender, vulnerable, and necessary in between.
It’s a time of rewiring, rethinking, and reassessing.
A time of pausing.
A time of allowing your mind, body, and heart to process what has ended…
… and slowly, carefully, begin to ask, what now?
What Makes the In-Between So Hard
The world doesn’t pause with you. It keeps moving. People expect you to bounce back, stay productive, “get over it.”
Your identity is shifting. If you were someone’s partner, someone’s mother in the daily sense, someone’s child, you’re left asking: Who am I now?
You’re physically and emotionally rewiring. Especially in midlife, menopause changes not just your body but your brain. You may feel foggy, more emotional, less resilient. That’s normal.
You don’t have a clear vision for what’s next. That can be disorienting for women who’ve always been needed, busy, or defined by their roles.
Tips for Navigating the In-Between Time
Let it be what it is. Don’t rush the process. This isn’t wasted time. It’s sacred space. It’s your chrysalis. You don’t have to transform overnight.
Work with a good therapist. One who understands life transitions, grief, and identity shifts—someone who can sit with your story and help you reconnect to your inner voice.
Surround yourself with safe, supportive people. This may be one friend or a small group who gets it. Avoid those who pressure you to “be okay.”
Listen to your body. Midlife and grief are embodied experiences. Rest. Move gently. Nourish yourself. The body keeps score—and also holds wisdom.
Journal your unfolding. This doesn’t have to be structured. Let yourself write down the questions you’re asking. The things you miss. The things you’re dreaming. This helps you hear yourself.
Reclaim your desires. What do you want now? Not what your kids need. Not what your church expected. Not what your partner insisted. But you.
Let joy be a visitor. It doesn’t have to be huge. Tiny, daily pleasures can tether you to life again. A new book. A hot bath. A walk at dusk. Joy isn’t frivolous—it’s a bridge back to yourself.
It’s okay to feel like your life is a series of fragments right now.
You are not broken.
You are becoming.
You are in the messy, miraculous process of growing roots for a life that is yours.
You are not behind.
You are not too late.
You are not selfish for needing space.
You are human. And brave. And allowed to take your time.
Eventually—maybe sooner than you think—you’ll feel it:
A quiet knowing.
A grounded morning.
A laugh that bubbles up.
A decision that feels really, truly yours.
You’ll realize you’re no longer floating.
You’re no longer holding your breath.
You’ve landed.
It doesn’t mean life won’t still bring more change. But it means you’ll meet it from a deeper, steadier place. One rooted in you.
Psychologists call this phase of life “generativity.” It’s about giving back—but not from depletion. From overflow. From wisdom. From having journeyed through endings and chosen to rise differently.
You begin to ask:
What legacy do I want to leave?
What kind of life do I want to live now that I’m no longer performing or pleasing?
What matters most to me now?
This is the sacred territory of midlife:
Where authenticity replaces obligation.
Where voice replaces silence.
Where healing makes space for joy.
If you're navigating this in-between time, you don’t have to have the next chapter figured out yet.
You just need a soft place to land.
A little breath.
A little clarity.
And a lot of grace.
