There comes a moment in both professional and personal life where the story shifts. For some, it happens suddenly—a role ends, an industry changes, a door closes. For others, it happens quietly, with a sense that what once felt fulfilling no longer fits. Either way, the feeling is the same: what now? For some reason both on my algorithm on social media and in the personal conversations I am having the topic of transitions keep coming up.
I am in this moment myself. After years of building, climbing, and achieving, I found myself at an inflection point. On paper, it looked like success. Inside, it felt like something else entirely—a disorienting pause, an in-between that didn’t come with a map.
There’s a word for this: the liminal space. Anthropologists describe it as the threshold between what was and what’s next. It’s that stretch of time where one identity has ended, but the new one hasn’t fully arrived. And let’s be honest—it’s uncomfortable.
There’s a strange tension when you’re no longer who you were… but not yet who you’re becoming.
It’s the pause after the goodbye but before the hello.The hallway between two doors.The moment you exhale, but before you inhale again.
It’s almost like the eery feeling of an airport at 2:00am.
This is liminal space—the in-between. And while it may feel like a place of uncertainty or even loss, it’s also where transformation quietly takes root.
In spirituality and culture, it's the sacred pause in a rite of passage, where the old self is shed and a new self is waiting to emerge.
The word liminal comes from the Latin limen, meaning “threshold.” Liminal spaces exist at the borders of identity, time, space, or belief. They’re the places where one chapter has ended, but the next hasn’t fully begun.
These spaces—though often uncomfortable—are fertile ground for growth, clarity, and reinvention.
Why Change Feels So Hard
Most of us are wired to crave clarity. We want to know where we stand.Neuroscience tells us that our brains are wired for survival, not reinvention. Predictability keeps us safe, so change—even when chosen—registers as a threat. That’s why the liminal space can trigger anxiety, second-guessing, or the urge to rush into the next thing just to escape the discomfort.
From a neurological standpoint, this is significant. When our environment becomes unfamiliar or unpredictable, our amygdala (the brain’s fear center) activates to scan for threat. The ambiguity of “not knowing” creates a low-grade alert system in the brain, often experienced as anxiety or restlessness.
Psychologist Lisa Feldman Barrett calls this “affective forecasting error”—our brain tries to predict the future to keep us safe, but in liminal space, there’s not enough data. So we feel vulnerable, even if we’re technically safe.
In a society obsessed with progress and productivity, waiting, resting, or “not knowing” can feel like failure. Yet these pauses are often where we meet ourselves most honestly. And when you have just left a clearly defined identity, role at work the difference is stark and even scarier.
The contrast of the moment before and the moment we are in is so distinct that itfeels like crossing an invisible line—the air changes, the silence deepens, and you know in your bones that something in you has shifted, even if the world hasn’t caught up yet.You may not even see it either—but something sacred is happening beneath the surface.Your nervous system may still be catching up. Your mind may still be clinging to the old chapter.
The discomfort we feel isn’t a sign that we’re lost—it’s a sign that we’re in transition. And that’s a very different thing.
Our brains are biased toward worst-case scenarios. We often underestimate that 50% of the time we might succeed, grow, or discover something extraordinary. Instead, our protective wiring spotlights the other 50%—the chance of failure—as if it’s the only possible outcome. It’s not truth, it’s biology.
But psychology also shows us something else: growth rarely happens without discomfort. The liminal space may feel destabilizing, but it’s also the birthplace of possibility. By sitting with the uncertainty, we open ourselves to reinvention that’s deeper than just swapping job titles—it’s about reshaping the way we live, lead, and define success.
You’re Allowed to Change Your Mind
Here’s something we don’t hear enough: the dreams you had at 18 don’t have to be the dreams you carry forever. You have the right to change your mind. To outgrow what once fit. To decide that after achieving “success,” you want a new definition of it.
I often think of life as a book, a book with only 1 chapter or 2 would be boring. It would feel incomplete. These moments of liminal space are the transition between chapters and the more of them, the richer the life is, if you are brave enough to not fall into going back to rereading or rewriting the last chapter.
That doesn’t mean the old chapter was wasted. It means you lived it fully—and now, you get to write a new one.
How to Navigate the Liminal Space
If you’re in the in-between right now, here are a few things that help:
* Name it. Just calling this season what it is—a liminal space—can be grounding. It reminds you that this isn’t failure, it’s transition.
* Redefine success. Instead of titles or external markers, ask: what would alignment look like? What would freedom feel like?
* Experiment small. Try things without pressure for them to be permanent. Think of it as prototyping the next chapter.
* Anchor yourself. Whether it’s faith, journaling, or community, create rituals that give you stability while the bigger picture is still forming.
* Trust the process. Remember, clarity often comes after action, not before it.
* Picture the other side before it has happened. How will you feel if you jump back into what is safe and comfortable rather than accomplishing something you didn’t dream possible.
* Ask God for what you want even if you are still figuring it out. Notice what lands soflty on you, what flows, what feels right, what you enjoy doing are all clues.
Why It’s Worth It
I’ll be honest: I don’t love the in-between. Even as someone who self-identifies as liking change, it never feels natural. But what I do love is knowing how I feel when I get to the other side of it—the satisfaction of looking back and realizing I’ve lived multiple chapters in one lifetime. That I did the scary thing, even though I wanted to stay in the comfort or run to the known. Each one unique, each one teaching me something I wouldn’t have learned if I’d stayed where it was safe.
That’s what keeps me saying yes to change. Not because it’s easy, but because it reminds me that I only get one life—and I want to take advantage of it by writing chapters that feel true, even if they look different.
I secretly, I know on the other end I will be proud of the leap I took, rather than jumping back into something similar where while safer and more comfortable I will feel disappointed in my lack of courage.
A Gentle Reminder
If you’re standing on the edge of change, here’s what I want you to know: you’re not behind, you’re not failing, and you’re not alone. You’re simply in the liminal space. It’s uncomfortable, yes—but it’s also sacred.
It’s proof that you’ve been brave enough to close one chapter, and wise enough to pause before rushing into the next.
And on the other side of this threshold? A new beginning, one you get to design on your own terms.
TL;DR: The liminal space is the uncomfortable in-between when one chapter ends but the next hasn’t begun. It feels unsettling because our brains crave predictability—but it’s also where true reinvention happens. To navigate it: name the transition, redefine success, experiment small, anchor yourself, and trust the process. The liminal space isn’t failure—it’s proof you’re brave enough to close one chapter and wise enough to design the next on your own terms.
🔑 Bottom Line
The liminal space—the in-between of career transitions—isn’t wasted time; it’s the threshold of reinvention. By naming the transition, redefining success, and experimenting forward, you transform uncertainty into clarity and design a career (and life) aligned with who you are now.
About the Author
Teri Arvesu Gonzalez is the founder of The TAG Collab, a consultancy that helps mission-driven companies align purpose, brand, and strategy from the inside out.
With a Master’s in Management and Leadership and more than 25 years of experience leading newsrooms, launching initiatives, and driving transformation across Miami, Chicago, and national corporate teams, she brings deep expertise in storytelling, culture-building, and operational alignment.
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