The In-between is the part nobody tells you about.

Nobody warns you about the in-between.

They warn you about the fall. They romanticize the comeback. But the long, quiet, unsexy middle? Nobody’s writing about that.

And that’s exactly where I live right now.

I’m not who I was four years ago. That woman is gone.

But I’m not who I’m becoming yet either. She hasn’t shown up. She’s somewhere in the mail, lost in transit.

Me? I’m just here. In between.

I kept waiting for the moment.

You know the moment… the one in the movies where the music swells and the main character goes *“this is who I am now.”* Fade to the new chapter. Roll credits on the old version.

Spoiler: that moment does not come in real life.

What comes instead is Tuesday. Then another Tuesday. Then a Wednesday where you feel pretty good actually. Then a Thursday where something small sets you off and you can’t explain why.

That’s the reinvention. That’s the whole thing.

I used to think I was doing it wrong.

Like there was a *correct* version of this where I’d wake up one morning and feel certain. Where the new business would feel like mine instead of something I was auditioning to do. Where being a mom of four would feel like a superpower instead of a tightrope.

I was waiting to arrive.

Nobody says this out loud, so I will… THERE’s NO FUCKING ARRIVAL!

There’s just the walking.

Some days the walking feels and feeling my best. Other days it feels like you’re dragging yourself by the last ounce of whatever it is you can give.

Both days count the same in the end.

Here’s what I’m actually doing in the in-between, in case you’re here too.

I stopped explaining myself to people who knew the old version. That woman owed them things. This one doesn’t.

I stopped waiting to feel ready. Ready is a feeling that shows up *after* you start, not before. It’s not the permission slip you think it is.

I stopped apologizing for the pace. I’m moving at the speed of a 44-year-old woman with four kids and a life to rebuild. That’s the speed.

I stopped calling it a mess. It’s not a mess. It’s a middle. Those are different.

The pressure in the in-between sounds like this:

*You should be further along by now.*

*Other people have it figured out already.*

*You’re 44, what are you doing.*

I had to get clear about where that voice was coming from. It wasn’t mine. It was a collage of other people’s timelines and I was trying to match my life to it.

My timeline is mine. If I’m late to some invisible schedule… I wasn’t invited to that meeting anyway.

**Take this with you:**

You are not behind. You’re in the middle of something that doesn’t have a visible end yet. Those are different.

You don’t have to feel like yourself to BE yourself. The feeling lags behind the facts.

The in-between isn’t the punishment before the reward. It IS the work.

I thought by now I’d feel different.

What I feel instead is honest, truly authentic and finally freeing, with sprinkles of healing.

xoMeka