The Space Between

I didn’t expect this liminal stage to last quite so long. I thought I’d leave teaching, take some time to reset, and then move on to the next step with a clear plan and a fresh burst of energy. But here I am, 18 months later, still somewhere in the middle.

Once I got a taste of working flexibly and feeling utterly competent in my current temporary role, the idea was to start something of my own. And there has been a powerful kind of relief in finally feeling competent. It’s a feeling that often eluded me during my teaching career, where I constantly questioned myself. Now, in this new direction, I feel solid in my skills and clear about what I have to offer.

I assumed that this sense of competence would naturally push me forward with energy and clarity. But instead, fear and doubt have crept back in – different in form, but just as present. It’s disorienting to feel capable and yet still unsure. That tension has made this transition more complex than I expected. So starting this business is still the plan. But I’ve found myself hesitating. I’ve got the notes, the research, even an almost-built website. I know what I want the business to be. But for some reason, I can’t seem to move from planning to actually launching. The next step always feels slightly out of reach – like I’ll do it tomorrow, or next week, when I feel more ready. I am still waiting to feel ready.

What makes it harder is this underlying pressure to be doing something. Something visible. Something that feels like I’m contributing. I want to pull my weight, to feel I’m supporting our family, not just in day-to-day life, but financially as well. I can’t ignore this sense that I’m drifting a bit. That I should be further along. That I don’t know who I am.

And then there’s the more difficult feeling I’ve been grappling with – the regret that I ever went into teaching at all. I look back and wonder what might have happened if I’d taken a different path altogether. If I’d listened to that voice years ago that said, this isn’t quite right. It’s a hard thought to sit with, because it brings up a lot: time I can’t get back, parts of myself I feel I left behind, a feeling of lost potential. I know it’s not helpful to dwell on it too much, and I try not to. But it does sneak in, especially on the days when I feel like I’m starting from scratch.

Still, I am trying to believe this liminal space has a purpose in itself, even if it’s not clear right now. Just because it’s not going the way I imagined doesn’t mean it’s not leading somewhere. I’m trying to be patient, even when it feels uncomfortable. And I’m reminding myself that building something new takes time.

Right now, the work is about finding the courage to begin, despite the doubt, the restlessness, and the uncertainty. It’s about taking small, steady steps forward, even without having everything figured out. It doesn’t look impressive from the outside, and it certainly doesn’t follow a neat or predictable path. But it’s necessary. The fear is still there, but I need to move ahead anyway.