I’ve believing that somewhere else would finally feel like home as I’ve grappled with the discomfort of life transitions and the unknown. This season of my life is teaching me something different, though. Maybe coming home was never about finding a place. Maybe it has always been about returning to myself.
Sometimes life doesn't hand us the thing we imagined because it wasn't the destination. It was the invitation. The rehearsal. The practice match that shows us we're finally ready when the real thing arrives. Some opportunities change our lives. Others simply reveal that we've already changed.
Why does life feel paused when everything on paper is perfectly fine? If you are feeling a restless craving for more meaning, purpose, and aliveness, you aren’t alone. We are standing in a collective doorway. We are no longer who we were, but not yet who we are becoming.
Today I am 48, and I no longer feel like I am becoming someone new so much as returning to myself. This is a reflection on memory, identity, and the many versions of who we become before we learn how to come home again.
I thought I’d know who I was by now. And while I know myself more deeply than ever, there are still pieces of me shifting, reshaping, becoming. But maybe the most honest thing I can say is: I’m in the in-between. Not lost. Not broken. Not spiraling. But not fully arrived either. On the cusp,… Continue reading The Art of the In-Between
