There is a part of us that deeply craves certainty. We like to know what our commute will look like, how the month will end, and who we will be next year. Predictability feels like safety.
But life transitions—whether a relationship shift, a career change, or a new season of parenting—tend to strip away that predictability. They invite us into a "liminal space," that messy threshold between who we were and who we are becoming.
When the ground feels shaky, our instinct is often to tighten our grip. We might over-plan, worry, or try to force the chaos into a tidy box. It’s a natural protection mechanism. But often, trying to control the waves just leaves us exhausted.
What if there was a different way to weather the storm? Not by stopping the waves, but by learning to ride them? Here are a few psychological perspectives that I often explore with clients when the path forward isn't clear.
When we face the unknown, our minds are helpful storytellers. To try and keep us safe, our brains often fill in the blanks with worst-case scenarios. In psychology, we sometimes call this Fortune Telling.
We might hear internal whispers like:
"I’ll never find a community like this again."
"If I make this change, I won't be able to handle the stress."
It is tempting to treat these fears as facts. But I invite you to pause and look at them with curiosity.
What if these aren't predictions of the future, but simply expressions of how much you care about staying safe? We can acknowledge the thought—"I hear you, worry"—without necessarily letting it steer the ship.
There is a concept in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) called "dropping the anchor."
Imagine a boat in a storm. The captain cannot stop the wind or smooth out the sea. If they spend all their energy screaming at the weather, the boat drifts. But they can drop an anchor—not to stop the storm, but to hold the vessel steady while it passes.
When you feel the emotional storm of a transition rising, you might try dropping your own anchor:
Acknowledge: Gently notice what is showing up. "Here is anxiety." "Here is sadness."
Connect: Press your feet firmly into the floor. Notice the support of the chair beneath you.
Engage: Bring your attention back to what is right in front of you—the tea you are drinking, the email you are writing, the person you are listening to.
The goal isn't to make the storm disappear, but to remind yourself that you can stay grounded, even when the weather is rough.
Transitions often trick us into thinking we have to be "over" the old thing before we can start the new thing. We feel we must be fully confident before we take a step.
But human emotions are rarely black and white. There is a profound relief in the word "AND."
"I feel terrified and I am going to apply for the job."
"I am grieving my old life and I am curious about this new chapter."
You don't have to wait for the fear to leave. You can invite it along for the ride. It doesn't have to be the driver, but it can sit in the backseat.
Perhaps the hardest part of change is that we can't guarantee the outcome. We don't know if the move will work out or if the risk will pay off.
When we can't control the destination, we can focus on how we want to travel. This is about your Values.
Instead of asking, "Will this be successful?" you might ask, "Who do I want to be in the midst of this?"
If you value Courage, then taking the shaky step is a victory, regardless of where it leads.
If you value Connection, then being vulnerable with your partner is the win, even if the conversation is messy.
Be gentle with yourself. The "neutral zone" of transition is uncomfortable, but it is also where the growth happens. You don't have to have it all figured out today.
If you find yourself in the midst of a transition and want a space to explore these questions rather than just "get through" them, I invite you to reach out.
This blog is for general informational purposes only and does not establish a therapeutic relationship with me as a provider. It is not a substitute for professional mental health care. If you are struggling, please reach out to a qualified mental health professional in your area. If you are in the U.S. and in crisis, call 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline) or 911.