One Foot in, One Foot Out

I’ve been thinking a lottttt about the in between lately.

You know that phase where something inside you has shifted, but your external life hasn’t fully caught up yet? When you’re still showing up to the same places, logging into the same systems, having the same meetings, but internally you know you’re not the same person who walked in the door a few years ago. That’s where I am right now.

I work in an academic medical environment that has been an incredible stepping stone for me. It sharpened me, stretched me, gave me opportunities I’m genuinely grateful for, and helped me grow into myself as a psychologist, which I don’t take lightly. But the culture runs on things that just don’t light me up: leadership titles, promotions, publication metrics, who is building what, who is doing more, who is climbing faster etc. etc. And I want to be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with caring about those things. Some people thrive in that world and love it because it energizes them. It just doesn’t energize me. I don’t care about being the director of something. I don’t care about collecting accolades. I don’t care how my CV compares to someone else’s. I care about my patients. I care about doing good work. I care about the actual human in front of me. I care about going home at the end of the day and having energy left for my family. Everything outside of that feels loud. So when I say I feel one foot in and one foot out, it’s not dramatic. My values have clarified, my priorities have shifted, and once you see that, you can’t unsee it.

I just got back from a 9 day vacation and it was one of those trips where you get a real taste of the life you’re intentionally building. Slower mornings. More presence. More space. More time being a mom. More time being me. So when Monday rolled around and I opened my laptop, I felt that familiar resistance. Not because the work isn’t meaningful, but because I could feel the contrast. I could feel how much I want my time and energy pointed in a slightly different direction.

I told my friend Tania about it and she offered me a reframe that shifted something immediately.

She reminded me:

You are not working for this institution.
You are working for your life.

I work so I can buy all my friends dinner one day.
I work so my family can go on vacation.
I work so I can invest in my healing.
I work so I can build the practice that will one day fully hold me.
I work so I can create a life where my son knows a present mother.
I work so I can live freely.

Suddenly, the emails were no longer emails.

They were plane tickets.
They were slow mornings.
They were future retreats.
They were future afternoons at home, available for my kids in the ways I want to be.
They were freedom, in disguise.

Nothing about my external circumstances changed, but everything about my relationship to them did. This is the paradox of the in between. The in between is not a mistake, it is a bridge. Once I started seeing it that way, I realized how many different versions of this exist.

Maybe you’re in an in between right now too, and yours looks completely different from mine. It might look like dating again after a breakup and realizing you finally know what you want, even though you haven’t found it yet. It might be early motherhood, where you’re not who you were before but you’re not fully steady in this new identity either. It might be a move, a loss, a friendship that doesn’t quite fit anymore, a belief system you’ve outgrown, or a version of yourself that quietly expired.

The in between can look like so many things, but at its core it’s the space that opens up after you’ve gained clarity and before your external world has fully reorganized around it. It’s the overlap between who you’ve been and who you’re becoming. And most of the time, you’re not there by accident. You’re there because you told yourself the truth about what you want. You’re there becausee you chose growth over comfort. You decided that your time, your energy, and your presence are worth protecting.

It doesn’t always feel glamorous. It often feels uncertain, stretched, or slightly disorienting. But that tension is usually a sign that you’re actively constructing something better instead of defaulting to what’s familiar! You’re not wandering aimlessly, you’re recalibrating. You’re investing. You’re making daily decisions that future you will be deeply grateful for. You don’t have to love the in between and you don’t even have to feel comfortable in it. But this is your reminder (honestly mine too), that it is not random or wasted. It is the exact stretch of road required to build the life you want to wake up inside of.

So even if it feels awkward or slow or uncertain, trust that you are exactly where you need to be while that life takes shape.