Getting stuck in a lift is one of those dreaded moments that very quickly reminds me of how uncertainty can arise in the most mundane situations. My inner claustrophobe is rudely awakened, replaying every elevator-themed nightmare I've had. My internal plea is: please just take me back to the ground floor, where it was safe! Then, I send the dramatic text to my husband - I'm stuck in a lift - so that he knows where to look when he realises I went missing.
I don't mind being stuck in a lift with others, there's a solidarity in being stuck together. But it's really no fun when you're on your own, with very little control of how long you'll be suspended in the in-between.
And outside of this lift scenario, many of us might find ourselves in this 'suspended' space - also known as the liminal space. It represents a phase in your career or life where you leave a role or let go of an old identity that once offered safety and certainty, but the new path or version of you remains unclear. A prime example of the entire world experiencing liminality was during COVID. For my family, we talk about our life pre-treatment and post-treatment. We all pass through these thresholds at some point for example: moving countries, moving roles, marriage, divorce, illness, adolescence, parenthood etc.
In these moments, you feel discombobulated, in emotional limbo, particularly when the transition was not your choice. Feelings of uncertainty, guilt, shame, distress, overwhelm can certainly show up and this is very natural because our brains and bodies crave safety and stability. We are primed to stick to what's familiar and 'known' so to find ourselves in unfamiliar/unknown territory can be daunting. A 2016 UCL study found that people who had to guess whether they would be receiving an electric shock were more stressed than the ones who knew for certain they were going to get one!
But just like the chrysalis stage of a butterfly, this period can offer an opportunity for real growth and transformation, even if it feels slow and unprogressive at first.
Having steered through a few liminal spaces in my life, this is what I've learnt:
- Rest and recover. Make the most of this opportunity, because how often do you get a chance to do that?
- Mark the ending with a ritual. Write a letter to your old self. Light a candle. The idea of rituals is often tied to religious or traditional practices but British anthropologist, Victor Turner, found that rituals help individuals transition from one state to another, reframing their identity and supporting them through change.
- Re-connect with the world. Re-connect with nature. Re-connect with family and friends. Re-connect with hobbies you abandoned because you were busy 'adulting'.
- Experiment. Learn something new. Try to form a new habit. Rediscover a new sense of self, parts that you forgot existed. Practice 'both/and' thinking - it is possible to feel lost and found at the same time!
- Find support. Working with a coach, mentor or teacher opens your eyes to possibilities and widens your perspective. Think of them as a tether that keeps you grounded and steady.
Mary Poppins wasn't wrong when she sang 'a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down'!
Someone asked an interesting question the other day: What makes some people so comfortable moving from one thing to another with ease? What makes them so quick to adapt to change?
I'm not convinced they are moving with ease. Some people do have a higher tolerance for risk and ambiguity, or more practice with transitions or perhaps strong support systems. But what looks like ease could simply be momentum. Keeping momentum feeds the illusion of control. Pausing forces you to question who you are when you are not 'doing' things, slowing down asks you to pay attention to what you have been avoiding. The holy month of Ramadan is a reminder of this, teaching us that stepping back is a form of strength.
Liminality is a season of inquiry and many rush through because sitting with uncertainty/unknowing is uncomfortable. But when you allow yourself to wade through liminality's murky waters, you emerge more powerful and steadier because you learned to trust yourself and let go of what no longer serves you.
The in-between isn't a place to escape. It's a place to nurture yourself and listen more closely to the quiet beginnings of who you are becoming.
