Living in the Messy Middle

Recently I have been living in the in-between. It feels as though I am sitting right on the cusp of a big shift or change, yet my daily life looks exactly the same. I think that is the hardest part of living in the messy middle. Everything looks the same on the outside, yet I know intuitively somewhere inside of me that it won’t be the same for long. 

My strongest sense right now is that my system and my body are craving more quiet. My life and mind feel noisy right now in a way that I haven’t experienced before. I have taken much of the hustle out of my days, we moved somewhere where the sun is always shining, I started building a business that has felt deeply nourishing– and yet– everything feels loud and overstimulating. I feel closer to my authentic self than maybe ever before, but that seems to be the stalling factor. This version of me that I am getting to know now is a version I haven’t really known before, and I have no idea how to meet her needs.

When these doubts first surfaced, I thought my core dilemma was about picking the right place to live. We moved 1,000 miles away from home 3 years ago and after 2 years, I began to question if this was truly the right home for us to end up in. 

But the more I sit with the uncertainty, the more I realize that no place feels like the right place because I don’t have clarity on the life I’m truly calling in. 

When I slow down and close my eyes, I see some things I never thought I wanted before. I see trees, a garden, and a large front porch with a swing. I see a spacious backyard and a long table with a vase of flowers in the center. I see us bringing food to the table from the grill as we sit down to a meal with our family and close friends. I picture peaceful mornings with an expansive view, with much less houses around than I am used to.

In this quiet space, I read on our porch swing. We go for long bike rides as a family. We build tree forts in the backyard and the kids become explorers of our own property. I don’t send the kids to traditional school and we find our own way that allows me to honor the fullness of who they are. Maybe one day, we even have chickens or goats– though anyone who knows me would be shocked to read that. 

I am feeling a call for everything to simplify. To go back to the basics. To root deeply into relationships and to slow it all down… the exact things I have been running from my whole life. I have built my life around chasing the next thing, distracting myself, staying busy, and keeping my relationships at a safe emotional distance where I can trick myself into thinking that I don’t really need anyone.

It feels like all of that is ready to change, to evolve, to expand. 

But that desire for expansion is what also creates the contraction in my body. I am craving the simplicity of living in nature with quieter and slower days– but I also still want to build something of value with my work that truly helps people and outlives me. I want to spend the day gardening with my hands in the dirt and enjoying quality time with my children– and I also want to write a book that helps people fall deeper into self-love. I want to be challenged to expand my ideas, my perspective, and my spiritual practices… but I also don’t want to chase the illusive idea that who we are today isn’t enough.

The more I talk to people – the more I realize how many of us are feeling the same things. The desire to root, simplify, slow down, get offline, reconnect to nature, feel our bodies, live in rhythm with the seasons, and focus on building and maintaining a small handful of deeply nourishing relationships. And yet, our lives often pull us in the opposite direction. Thinking, planning, living in our minds, going, moving, doing, heads buried in our phones, in our work, forgetting to step outside for more than 5 minutes, and keeping half-relationships with multiple people we can never quite find as much time to see as we’d like.

So what is the answer? I know there is something waiting on the other side of that question that I simply cannot see yet. Where life becomes simpler and more rooted, but I am still able to live out my purpose. Where my relationships and dreams are a priority, but I still take time off of my phone and spend hours quietly connecting to myself among the trees, water, or dirt.

My life’s work has been about helping people find their way out of self-abandonment and back to self-love, to find peace from anxiety and anchor more into their truth, to trust their inner knowing and allow the universe to show up for them. I have worked through each of these things myself, especially in the last few years. And yet, I feel stuck in a way I haven’t before– patiently waiting for the answers that aren’t arriving. The ability to have life feel quieter and yet more expansive at the same time. 

It’s easy to write about the messy middle once you’re on the other side. But something is asking me to share the in-between. Before the answers arrive, before the clarity lands, before the next right step reveals itself. To take off the mask of being the wise friend and guide who has the answers and takes brave action, and to step into the authenticity of this moment– where it’s all murky and unclear.

Because embracing the messy middle is one of the deepest forms of self-love. Can we love ourselves when we have no idea what we’re doing? When something feels out of alignment but we don’t know how to change it yet? When we’re desperate to be on the other side with answers but right now no path forward is illuminated?

I think if we all named the messy middle more often– it would be so much easier to take our time feeling into this sacred pause. We would normalize it. It wouldn’t feel like a failure to have no idea what the right answer is. And in that pause, maybe something unlocks that is far beyond what we could have imagined while trying to logic or force our way through it. 

I think on the other side of this is not just a house on more land and a garden, it’s a version of me and the life I will build that I am still unraveling and befriending. I have a sense that getting to know myself in this messy middle, in this in-between, in this sacred pause– is exactly where I am supposed to be for now. This is the work. This is the journey. This is the right place.