Today I Choose to be Transitioning – How to be Transitioning

There’s a certain discomfort in being between two versions of yourself—not who you once were, but not yet who you’re becoming. That’s what transitioning feels like: a liminal space, an in-between.

One of my clearest seasons of transition came after I ended a long relationship in my forties. I knew what I didn’t want anymore—betrayal, chaos, drama dressed up as passion—but I had no idea yet what healthy love could look like. It was disorienting.

I remember nights of journaling, scribbling qualities of a partner I hoped to find, and then realizing the harder list was the one about me—the qualities I’d need to cultivate to attract and sustain the kind of love I longed for. Boundaries (a foreign word to me at the time), resilience, higher standards, and the courage to believe I deserved calm, steady love.

That was my chrysalis season—dissolved, unrecognizable, uncertain. Lonely at times. But I knew deep down I couldn’t go back, and I had to trust that what was ahead, though unseen, would be worth the messy middle.

Navigating transition meant holding two things at once: grief for what was ending and faith in what was emerging. The breakthrough wasn’t immediate, but slowly, life began to re-form. And then, Curtis arrived—the steady presence who showed me what love without drama could be.

Today, I choose to honor the transitions—not as failures or lost years, but as the sacred middle spaces where the old dissolves and the new is quietly taking shape.

The Liminal Space of Becoming

Transition represents one of the most psychologically challenging states humans experience—the space between identities, roles, or life phases where you’re no longer who you were but haven’t yet become who you’re going to be. This liminal state feels disorienting because it lacks the certainty and familiarity that normally provide psychological stability.

During my relationship transition, I experienced the particular discomfort of having a clear understanding of what I was leaving behind but only vague intuitions about what I was moving toward. I could articulate what healthy love should include, but I had limited experience of what it actually felt like in practice.

This uncertainty is characteristic of meaningful transitions—they involve stepping away from known patterns before new ones have fully crystallized. The discomfort is often a sign that real change is occurring rather than just surface adjustments to existing patterns.

The Dissolution Phase

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of deep transition is the period when old identities and patterns begin dissolving before new ones have formed. Like my “chrysalis season,” this phase often feels like losing yourself rather than finding a new direction.

During this dissolution period, familiar ways of thinking, responding, and relating often stop working effectively, but replacement patterns haven’t yet developed. This can create feelings of incompetence, confusion, or loss of identity that are actually normal aspects of significant change rather than signs of failure or regression.

Learning to tolerate and even honor this dissolving phase becomes crucial for successful transition. The discomfort often tempts people to retreat to familiar patterns or rush toward premature closure rather than allowing the full process of transformation to unfold.

The Work of Self-Preparation

One of the most important insights from my transition period was recognizing that external change requires internal preparation. Simply knowing what kind of relationship I wanted wasn’t sufficient—I needed to develop the qualities that would make such a relationship possible and sustainable.

This internal work often proves more challenging than external changes because it requires confronting patterns and beliefs that may have been operating unconsciously for years. Learning about boundaries, for instance, meant examining why I had difficulty saying no and what fears drove my tendency to over-accommodate others’ needs.

The parallel lists I created—qualities desired in a partner and qualities to develop in myself—represented recognition that we can only attract and maintain relationships that match our own level of emotional development and self-awareness.

Holding Grief and Faith Simultaneously

Healthy transition requires the ability to simultaneously experience grief for what’s ending and faith in what’s emerging. This dual awareness prevents both premature attachment to new directions and excessive dwelling on past patterns that no longer serve.

Grieving the end of my chaotic relationship involved mourning not just the specific person but also the familiar intensity that had felt like “real” love for so long. Even patterns that were ultimately harmful can feel like home when they’ve been central to your identity for years.

Faith in what was emerging required maintaining hope and commitment to growth even when I couldn’t clearly envision the final outcome. This kind of faith isn’t blind optimism but conscious choice to continue moving forward despite uncertainty about exact destinations.

The Timeline of Transformation

One of the most difficult aspects of transition is accepting that meaningful change operates on its own timeline rather than the schedule we might prefer. The period between ending my old relationship and meeting Curtis felt interminable while I was living through it, but in retrospect, it was exactly the duration needed for internal preparation.

Rushing transition often leads to premature choices that recreate old patterns in new forms. Taking the time to truly understand what needed to change internally created the foundation for recognizing and appreciating Curtis’s steady love when it became available.

This suggests that one of the most important skills for navigating transition is developing tolerance for uncertainty and faith in process rather than just focusing on outcomes.

Recognizing Emergence

While the beginning of transition is often marked by clear endings or decisions, the completion of transition is usually more gradual and subtle. New patterns emerge slowly, and it’s often only in retrospect that you can identify when the transition was actually complete.

Meeting Curtis didn’t immediately end my transition period—it took time to recognize that his steady approach to love represented what I had been seeking rather than just settling for less intensity. Learning to appreciate calm consistency over dramatic highs and lows required ongoing adjustment to new criteria for what constituted fulfilling relationship.

This gradual emergence suggests that successful transition often involves learning to recognize and value new possibilities rather than just implementing predetermined plans.

Practical Strategies for Navigating Transition

While each transition has unique characteristics, certain approaches can support the process regardless of specific circumstances.

Honor the dissolving phase. Like my chrysalis season, accept that feeling unformed or uncertain is often a necessary part of significant change rather than evidence of failure.

Do internal preparation work. Use transition periods to develop qualities and capabilities that will support whatever emerges rather than just waiting for external circumstances to change.

Hold both grief and faith. Allow yourself to mourn what’s ending while maintaining hope and commitment to what’s emerging, even when the final outcome remains unclear.

Resist premature closure. Avoid rushing toward new commitments or identities before the internal work of transition has been adequately completed.

Trust the process timeline. Accept that meaningful change operates on its own schedule rather than your preferred timeline for resolution.

Different Types of Transition

The principles that guided my relationship transition can be applied to other significant life changes that involve moving from one identity, role, or life phase to another.

Career transitions: Moving between professional identities often requires similar internal work to align new roles with authentic values and capabilities.

Life stage transitions: Changes like becoming a parent, entering retirement, or dealing with aging parents often involve fundamental shifts in identity and priorities.

Health transitions: Adapting to chronic illness, recovery from addiction, or major lifestyle changes often require rebuilding identity around new limitations and possibilities.

Geographic transitions: Moving to new locations often involves more than logistical changes—they can trigger complete life reorganization and identity reassessment.

The Sacred Nature of In-Between Spaces

Learning to view transition periods as sacred rather than just difficult represents a fundamental shift in how you experience change. Instead of seeing these periods as time to be endured until “real life” resumes, they become opportunities for growth and transformation that wouldn’t be possible during more stable periods.

My chrysalis season, uncomfortable as it was, created the internal conditions that made my relationship with Curtis possible. Without that period of dissolution and rebuilding, I might not have been able to recognize or receive the kind of love I actually needed.

This sacred dimension of transition suggests that these periods serve essential functions in human development rather than just representing unfortunate disruptions to stability.

Integration and Moving Forward

Successful transition involves not just reaching new stability but integrating lessons learned during the change process. The skills developed during transition—tolerance for uncertainty, faith in process, ability to hold multiple perspectives simultaneously—often prove valuable long after the specific transition is complete.

The internal work I did during my relationship transition continues to serve me in other areas of life that require boundary-setting, self-advocacy, and the ability to maintain standards despite external pressure to compromise.

This integration suggests that transition periods often develop capabilities that enhance your ability to navigate future changes with greater skill and less distress.

Today, I choose to honor whatever transitions I’m currently navigating—recognizing them as sacred spaces where old patterns dissolve and new possibilities take shape, trusting that the discomfort of not-knowing often precedes the emergence of something more authentic and aligned than what came before.

Because the most meaningful changes in life often require passing through liminal spaces where you’re temporarily nobody in order to become more fully yourself.