☁️ The Middle is Messy (and Also Kind of Sacred)

We’re taught how to exist inside of cycles—how to start them, how to stay in them, how to see them through, moving in a constant loop (of productivity or otherwise). But no one really teaches us how to leave them. There’s no ceremony for most transitions.

No graduation. No big promotion.

A lot of the time, change doesn’t come with closure.It happens quietly. Abruptly. And then we’re just expected to adjust.

That’s scary. 

Especially when you have no idea what’s coming next.

So we make up stories.

We try to explain the unknown, soften it, make it make sense—just to have something to hold onto.

This post isn’t about finding clarity. It’s not about creating a five-year plan or finally getting your life together. It’s about living in the liminal space of not knowing. Sitting in the messy middle. Rolling with the punches while still making space for the very real overwhelm that comes with it.

This is about learning to stay open, especially when the path isn’t clear.

⏳ We Want Answers (and That’s Normal)

I’m super guilty of over-planning my five-year plan— which is deeply ironic, because I’m also notorious for scrapping the whole thing, putting up my dukes, and going 1v1 with the universe (And that bitch can throw hands.)

There’s so much pressure to have a roadmap for your 30s—What your relationship should look like. How many kids you should (or shouldn’t) have. How big your 401(k) should be. Where your career should be, how your weekends should look, even what kind of drink or hobby or personality trait is going to define you now.

Wine mom?

Coffee girlie?

Disney adult?

Cool—if it’s you, it’s you. But why do we have to be any of that? Why do we act like not having a polished identity or a perfect plan means we’re behind?

Wanting certainty isn’t weakness.

It’s human.

We’re wired to look for patterns, to crave answers, to find a sense of control in a world that doesn’t offer much of it. But that craving for control can easily become a trap— One that convinces us we’re failing if we’re still figuring it out.

🌿 Softening Into the Unknown

What if—and hear me out—we don’t have to immediately dive into planning, fixing, or damage control if the second things don’t go as expected? What if we just… were?

That’s not my instinct, I’ll be honest.

Problem-solving is where I immediately retreat. I don’t lick my wounds—I blueprint my comeback. The second something falls apart, I’m adjusting the plan, rerouting, trying to get back on track as quickly and efficiently as possible. And for what? Because my life is supposed to look a certain way? Because I don’t want to disappoint the people around me—or the version of myself I thought I’d be by now? But what if I just didn’t? What if I let myself sit in the discomfort, the uncertainty, the not-knowing?

What if I allowed myself to pause—not because I’m giving up, but because I’m giving myself space?

To feel.
To process.

To grieve, even if something I thought I wanted turns out not to be for me. Softening into the unknown doesn’t mean we’re directionless.

It means we’re choosing presence over panic.

It means we’re resisting the urge to control what’s still unfolding.

And that’s not failure.
That’s grace.

🌀 What’s Still True

Here’s what’s still true—even when the plan falls apart:

You are still worthy.
You are still growing.
You are still allowed to rest.

Just because things didn’t go the way you mapped them out doesn’t mean you are the problem. And while we’re at it?

The idea of “sunk costs” is also complete and utter bullshit.

You don’t owe your future to the version of you who made a decision under different circumstances.
It’s okay to pivot.
It’s okay to change your mind.
It’s okay to walk away from something that no longer fits—even if it used to, even if it fit for years, even if you desperately want it to fit still and it just doesn’t anymore. 

When everything feels uncertain, the most powerful thing you can do is name what’s still solid.

Your values.
Your rituals.
The people who feel like home.
The small things that bring you back to yourself.

Your support system isn’t just the friends who answer your texts or the people who show up when you need them—though that matters, too.

Your support system includes you.
Your capacity to self-soothe.
To check in.
To say “I don’t know what’s next, but I know I’ve survived worse.”
You don’t have to be fearless, quite frankly you shouldn’t be.
You just have to stay connected. 

🌙 Learning to Stay With the Not-Knowing

There’s nothing easy about living with uncertainty.
It’s uncomfortable.
It’s vulnerable.
It forces us to loosen our grip on outcomes we thought we were promised.

But there’s also something sacred in the not-knowing. Something honest. Something real.

You don’t need to rush clarity just to feel like you’re doing something. You don’t need to fill every pause with a plan. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is stay.

Stay with the questions.
Stay with your breath.
Stay with the quiet shift that’s happening inside you—even if you don’t understand it yet.

Because clarity doesn’t always come in a single moment. Sometimes it comes gently, over time. In hindsight. In stillness. You don’t have to know what’s next to keep moving forward.