Hi lovely,
I’ve been thinking a lot about endings, not the cinematic kind, but the quiet, complicated ones. The ones that don’t announce themselves. The ones that feel like standing in a doorway, not sure whether to step forward or take one last look back.
Last year was full of those liminal spaces for me. The in-between zones where life doesn’t line up neatly, where you’re no longer who you were but not yet who you’re becoming. I used to rush through those moments, searching for clarity, control, certainty, anything to avoid the discomfort. But last year taught me something different: endings are teachers, even when they’re messy.
Not all endings feel complete. Some unravel slowly. Some sting. Some feel like they arrive too early, and others too late. But what I’ve learned is that endings always reveal what needed to shift. They create openings we wouldn’t have chosen, but somehow needed.
The messy middle is where the real work happens. That space between what was and what’s next is disorienting. It’s emotional. It’s slow. It’s nonlinear. And yet it’s where identity gets reimagined. It’s where you learn to trust yourself without a script. It’s where the truth has room to surface.
If you’ve worked with me, you’ve probably heard me talk about the Neutral Zone from William Bridges’ transition model. That space after an ending and before a new beginning, where things feel unclear and uncomfortable. Clients often worry they’re doing something wrong when they’re there. I’m always reminding them, and myself, that the neutral zone is not a problem to solve. It’s a necessary phase of transition. Confusion, low energy, and uncertainty are not signs of failure. They are signs that something new is forming.
In 2025, I kept finding myself in that middle place, frustrated that I didn’t have answers yet. But the more I softened into it, the more I realized the middle is not a waiting room. It’s a laboratory. Things are incubating even when it looks like nothing is happening.
Liminality requires a different kind of courage. Not the bold or decisive kind we like to celebrate. But the quieter courage of staying present when everything feels uncertain. The courage to let things unfold. The courage to not abandon yourself when you don’t have a clear direction.
You don’t need a polished plan to move forward. Last year, I experimented. I tested small steps instead of forcing big leaps. I let myself try things without knowing whether they were right. I allowed myself to rest inside the unknown instead of sprinting out of it. The messy middle gave me permission to be in process, not production.
Transitions aren’t meant to be done alone. One of the gifts of last year was letting people walk alongside me without pretending I was fine. The in-between becomes softer with community. Liminality becomes less terrifying when someone reminds you, “This is normal. You’re not lost. You’re just shifting.”
Joy can still find you, even here. Life is still funny, still chaotic, still full of small ridiculous delights, even when you’re navigating a transition. Joy doesn’t cancel out the hard stuff. It coexists with it. It makes the middle space livable.
As we start the new year, I’m sitting with these questions, and maybe they’ll resonate with you too:
What are you consciously closing?
What feels unfinished but ready to be released anyway?
If you’re looking for a gentle, structured way to reflect on 2025 and set intentions for 2026, I’m a fan of the Year Compass. It’s a grounded, thoughtful tool that works well when you’re in transition.
If you’re in transition right now, I want you to know this. The in-between is fertile. It’s shaping you in ways you can’t yet see and bringing you closer into the light.
I’m wishing you moments of rest, warmth, and connection in whatever ways feel nourishing to you. May you find pockets of ease in the swirl, and may the start of this year meet you with gentleness as you step toward what’s next.
With love and deep appreciation,
Vesna
The love list:
Watching: The Lowdown
Reading: The Ministry of Time – Kaliane Bradley
Listening: Vendran Suaves Lluvias – Silvana Estrada