Between Lives: How to Navigate a Turning Point

Our brain loves certainty. It knows: there's a past (that was clear), there's a future (it can be planned). But the "in-between" state is territory without maps. And the brain starts to panic.

It searches for answers that don't exist. It demands decisions that can't be made right now. It reminds you of the past, trying to pull you back to at least familiar pain.

But it's precisely in this "in-between" that the most important things happen.

In Slavic tradition, this state was deliberately associated with threshold holidays: Christmastide, Rusalka Week. When "the boundaries grow thin" and the old order is broken, access to new knowledge opens up. Our ancestors didn't fear this time - they respected it, gave themselves rest to gather strength for a new life.

There are a few simple guidelines that can help you avoid getting stuck or breaking down during this transition.

What you can do:

• Slow down. This isn't "laziness." It's time for digestion.
• Be okay with not knowing. You don't have to know where you're going right now.
• Cry, get angry, feel sad. Emotions are fuel for the transition.
• Try new things without commitment. "Sampling" the world without plans or obligations is healthy.
• Thank the past. For what it was and what it taught you.

What to avoid:

• Making major decisions. Especially ones based on panic.
• Cutting ties in anger. If you have doubts, it's better to wait.
• Pretending "everything's fine." Acknowledge that you're in transition.
• Immediately seeking new relationships, jobs, or goals. First, give yourself time to simply be in the silence.

When the past no longer holds you and the future doesn't yet call to you, the only real anchor point is the present. This practice will help you ground yourself in the "here and now" moment.

You'll need: 10 minutes of quiet, a place where no one will disturb you.

Step 1. Look around.

Without closing your eyes, slowly survey the space around you. Name aloud 5 objects you see: "I see a table. I see a window. I see a cup. I see a book. I see light."

Step 2. Listen.

Close your eyes. Listen to the sounds around you: "I hear the wind outside. I hear footsteps. I hear my breathing."

Step 3. Feel.

Feel your body: "I feel my feet touching the floor. I feel my back. I feel the air moving in and out."

Step 4. Tell yourself:

"I am here. I am safe. I don't need to know what tomorrow will bring. Right now, I simply exist."

This practice won't "solve" your situation. But it will bring you back into your body, into reality, where things aren't as scary as they are in your head.

Sometimes the future seems empty because we're looking at it through fear. This practice helps shift perspective.

You'll need: a sheet of paper, a pen, 15 minutes.

Step 1. Imagine.

Imagine that a year has passed. You've already emerged from this breaking point. You look back and see that this time gave you something important.

Step 2. Write a letter.

Write a letter to your present self from that future. Begin like this: "Dear [your name], I know how hard things are for you right now. But I want to tell you that..."

Describe what you gained, what you learned, where you arrived. Don't try to guess the "right" future. Just allow yourself to dream - safely, without obligations.

Step 3. Read it aloud.

Read the letter aloud. Feel how things become a little warmer inside. Even if it's just imagination at play, sometimes imagination helps us survive.

Sometimes a transition drags on. Months, years. And then fear appears: "What if I never get out?"

A transition can't last forever. But it can last longer than we'd like. And that's not a sign that you're "broken." It simply means your inner world needs more time to restructure itself.

What you can do:

• Accept that the timeline isn't under your control. You can't "speed up" the transition. You can only live through it.
• Look for small joys. Not "the meaning of life," but "today I'll have tea with honey and look out the window."
• Seek support. Friends, a therapist, a community - don't hesitate to ask for help.
• Believe you'll emerge. Even if you can't see the light right now.

A turning point isn't punishment. It doesn't mean "you're broken." It's a transition when old structures collapse so you can free yourself from the burden and find your true path. You're not lost - you're just at the threshold. And even if the door hasn't opened yet, you're already standing before it. And that's what matters most.

P.S. If you're in such a transition right now - share in the comments what word best describes your state. Sometimes simply naming it is already a step toward emerging from it.