This Is Why You Feel So Lost Right Now

The in-between can feel like an endless desert, but maybe that's exactly where everything changes.

No one talks about how messy the in-between feels.

The space between who you were and who you’re becoming.

It carries a strange weight.

It’s not heavy like a burden, but more like standing in a doorway feeling the gravity of two different worlds pulling at you.

One behind—the familiar, always whispering of what you’ve known.

One ahead—the uncertain promise, unfolding step by step as you walk forward without a map.

This is where hesitation thrives. The place where you wonder if you should turn back or even try at all.

Because moving forward means going where you haven’t gone before. It means looking where you least want to look.

It means leaving behind versions of yourself that you’ve known for so long.

And that’s terrifying.

It’s uncomfortable. It’s unsettling.

You’re walking straight into the desert—into the space between.

You’re not who you were.

You’re not who you’re meant to be.

You’re just…caught…in a place that feels like nowhere. Suspended in nothing.

Alone.

With nothing but blind faith pulling you forward.

This place can break you if you let it.

Because when you don’t know what’s coming next around the corner, the mind is drenched with anxiety, scrambling to fill the gaps.

“This is a huge mistake.”

“You’re not ready for this.”

“You should turn back.”

“You’re going to die out here.”

Endless cycles of fear, doubt and worry in a desperate attempt to cling to the familiar—even if the familiar is too small for you now.

Ever felt like you’ve been on the edge of something new, only to feel the hooks of the past pulling you back?

That’s because the old version of you doesn’t let go easily.

It lingers.

It negotiates.

It criticizes and condemns.

It does everything it can to sink its claws into you and convince you that the unknown isn’t worth the risk.

Because even in pain—the familiar can feel safer than the promise of the future.

That’s why it’s so easy to stay stuck.

Not because you don’t want to grow, but because the space between is too uncomfortable to bear.

So you retreat back to what you know.

You choose certainty over expansion.

And you survive only within the limits of what you’ve already explored.

You’re safe—

And the dream slowly withers.

But here’s the thing…

The in-between isn’t failure. It’s the rite of passage to who you’re becoming.

You can’t think of it as being lost.

You have to think of it as becoming.

And becoming takes time.

You can’t rush the shedding.

You can’t rush the letting go.

You can’t rush the uncertainty.

Because the desert works on you while you walk through it.

This is where you learn to trust yourself.

This is where the pressure of change reshapes you.

This is where you collect the wisdom that you will need.

It’s not a void.

It’s a test.

A process.

A phone ringing in the distance, waiting for you to pick up.

At some point you will have to decide.

To let go of what you’ve known.

To stop looking back.

To trust that the version of you you can see is waiting for you on the other side of it all.

No one else can walk this path for you.

The in-between will break you apart and put you back together again.

And if you can hold steady even when all feels lost—you will arrive.

Maybe not all at once.

Probably not in the way you expected.

But step by step, you will become.

And when you do, you will look back at this time—the one that felt so unbearable—

And you’ll realize it was never empty.

It was just waiting for you to grow into it.

This is your path.

Walk forward.

Even if your heart trembles.

You’re not who you were anymore.

You’re not yet who you can be.

But you’re on your way.

And that’s all that matters.

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Here’s how you can apply this to your own life:

Intention:
To embrace the in-between—not as a place of waiting, but as a place of becoming. To trust that even in uncertainty, you are still moving forward.

Reflection:
Sit with this question: What if this space isn’t a mistake? What if you’re not lost, but in transition? Close your eyes and imagine the version of you who kept walking forward. What would they tell you about this moment? What did they have to release? What did they have to trust in order to take the next step?

Practice:

Write about where you are. The uncertainty. The pull of the past. The fear of what’s ahead. Let it all be raw. Unfiltered. Honest. Then shift your focus forward. What do you need to trust in order to take the next step? Write about what you must release, what you must believe in, and what is waiting for you on the other side. When you’re done, read it back. Let it sink in. Then close your journal, take a deep breath, and step forward.

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Thank you for being here,
—Evan