The Liminal Space

There is a space no one teaches us how to navigate.

It’s not the beginning. It’s not the end. It’s the middle, the part where everything feels like it’s coming undone, but nothing new has arrived to take its place.

It’s the divorce after the papers are signed but before your soul catches up.

The job you’ve outgrown with no idea what comes next.

The shift in identity after the kids leave, the parents die, the roles fall away.

It’s the ache of becoming someone new, when the old version is still clinging to your bones.

This is the liminal space.

And this is where I walk with women.

It’s where I offer what my mother offered the dying: a calm presence,a deep witnessing, a soft place to land.

It’s what my sister offered the birthing:trust in what the body knows,honor for what’s passing through, and reverence for the holy mess of becoming.

In this in-between, it’s not about fixing. It’s about being with. Being with the grief. The fear. The not-knowing. The hope that flickers and the doubt that returns.

I help women remember who they are in the space where everything else is falling away.

Not with answers. But with presence.With practices, yes, but also with permission. To pause. To feel. To hold themselves sacred.

This is the place I know how to hold. Because I’ve lived here, too.

More than once.

If you’re in this space, I want you to know:

You’re not broken.

You’re not behind.

You’re not crazy.

You’re becoming.

And you don’t have to do it alone.