That "In Between" State - Navigating The Uncertainty

You've left the job but haven't started the next one. The relationship ended, but you haven't figured out who you are without it. The diagnosis came back unclear. The move is decided but hasn't happened. You're waiting on the results, the offer, the decision, the sign.

You are, in the truest sense of the word, in between.

Psychologists and anthropologists have a name for this territory: liminal space (which is where the name for my practice comes from!) from the Latin limen, meaning threshold. It's the space of doorways rather than rooms. Not where you were. Not yet where you're going. Just... here, on the threshold, with no clear sense of when the door on the other side will open.

If you're in one of these stretches right now, you already know the strange discomfort of it. It's not sadness exactly, and it's not fear exactly, though both show up. It's something closer to disorientation. A low hum of I don't know what I am right now that runs underneath everything else you're doing.

This post is about that state: why it feels the way it does, what's actually happening in your nervous system and your sense of self while you're in it, and most importantly how to move through uncertainty without worrying about the solution or need to "fix things".

Why the "In-Between" Feels So Hard

Here's something worth naming up front: it's not weakness that makes liminal periods hard. It's the uncertainty.

Humans love predictability. A significant part of what our brain does, all day, every day, is anticipate what happens next based on patterns it already knows. It's how we have survived. Predictability meant safety for most of human history. If you knew what tomorrow looked like, you could prepare for it.

Uncertainty removes that. When you're in an in-between state, your brain doesn't have a template to run. There's no script for "the space after the breakup but before you know who you're becoming," no established playbook for "the weeks after you've quit but before the new role starts." Your nervous system reads that lack of a template as a kind of low-grade threat, even when nothing is objectively wrong in the present moment.

That's why liminal periods can feel exhausting in a way that's hard to explain to people who aren't in one. You're not necessarily doing more. You're doing less certain, and less certain is expensive (physically tiring!). Your system is scanning, bracing, and trying to resolve ambiguity even when you're just sitting on the couch.

The Three Things Uncertainty Usually Triggers

In practice, most people in an in-between state find themselves cycling through some combination of the following. Recognising which one is loudest for you can help you respond to it more precisely, rather than treating "uncertainty" as one big undifferentiated feeling.

1. The urge to force resolution. This shows up as compulsively checking your phone for news, over-researching every possible path, or making a decision early just to make the discomfort stop - even a decision you're not ready to make. It's the nervous system trying to trade ambiguity for anything more certain, even a worse outcome, because certainty itself feels like relief.

2. The urge to catastrophise the gap. This is the mind filling the blank space with worst-case scenarios, because an imagined bad outcome can feel more bearable than no outcome at all. At least a catastrophe is a story with an ending.

3. The urge to freeze or numb. Less talked about, but just as common: some people respond to prolonged uncertainty not with urgency but with a kind of shutdown (this happens to me quite a lot) scrolling, oversleeping, avoiding the decisions or conversations that would move things forward, because engaging with the ambiguity feels like too much.

This is your system doing what it knows how to do with an experience it doesn't have a script for. But none of them actually shorten the in-between, they just change how uncomfortable it is while you're in it.

What Actually Helps: Building a Tolerance for Not Knowing

The goal in a liminal period usually isn't to eliminate uncertainty faster — often, you genuinely can't. The job posting hasn't closed. The test results aren't back. The grief hasn't finished doing what grief does. What actually helps is building your capacity to stay inside the not-knowing without it destabilising you completely. Clinically, this is sometimes referred to as increasing your tolerance for uncertainty and it's a skill, not a fixed trait.

Here's what that looks like in practice.

1. Name the state you're in, out loud

This sounds small, but it matters more than it seems. Saying "I'm in a liminal period right now" or "I'm in the in-between" to yourself, to a friend, in a journal does something specific: it gives your nervous system a category to file the experience under, instead of leaving it as unexplained discomfort. A named experience is processed differently by the brain than an unnamed one. You're not fixing the uncertainty, but you're no longer fighting confusion about the uncertainty on top of it.

2. Separate what's unknown from what's actually known

When everything feels uncertain, it's tempting to treat all of it as up in the air. It rarely is. Try this: make two short lists. What is genuinely unresolved right now? And separately list what is actually still true, stable, or within your control, even inside this transition? Your values haven't changed. Certain relationships haven't changed. Certain skills, routines, or resources haven't changed. This isn't about forced positivity, it's about giving your nervous system some solid ground to stand on amid the parts that are genuinely shifting.

3. Create small, low-stakes structure

Uncertainty at the level of "what will my life look like in six months" can't be solved by a to-do list. But your day-to-day can have more structure than the bigger picture does, and that structure does real regulatory work. A consistent wake time. A daily walk. A weekly check-in with a friend. These aren't distractions from the uncertainty, they're scaffolding that lets your body know that not everything is in flux, even while the big question is.

4. Resist the urge to decide before you're ready

If you notice the pull to make a decision purely to end the discomfort of not deciding, pause and ask: is this decision ready to be made, or am I just trying to make the feeling stop? Sometimes the answer is that yes, it's time. But often, especially early in a transition, what looks like decisiveness is actually anxiety wearing decision's clothes. A useful check: would you make this same choice if the discomfort of uncertainty weren't a factor at all?

5. Let the in-between do its actual work

This is the harder, less actionable one, and also the most important. Liminal periods aren't empty time. Anthropologist Arnold van Gennep, who first mapped out the concept of liminality in rites of passage, described this middle phase as neither the old status nor the new one, a threshold state that exists specifically between identities. In traditional rites of passage, this in-between phase isn't rushed past; it's where the actual transformation happens. The old self has to loosen its grip before the new one can take shape. That process can't be sped up by force, only supported.

This reframe matters clinically because so much of what makes uncertainty unbearable is the belief that nothing is happening while you wait. Something usually is. It's just not visible or resolvable on the timeline your anxious brain wants.

When the In-Between Is Also Grief

It's worth naming something that often goes unacknowledged in conversations about uncertainty: many in-between states are also, quietly, periods of grief even when nothing has technically been lost in the way we usually recognise loss.

Leaving a job you'd outgrown, ending a relationship that had run its course, closing a chapter you know was right to close, these can all carry grief for the version of your life, and the version of yourself, that existed inside that chapter. That grief doesn't always look like sadness. It can look like restlessness, irritability, or a strange flatness that doesn't match how "fine" the decision was supposed to feel.

If part of what you're navigating right now is uncertainty layered on top of an ending, it's worth giving that ending its due, rather than rushing straight to "what's next." The in-between often asks something of both parts of you: the part still processing what closed, and the part waiting for what's opening.

A Note on Timelines

One of the most common questions people ask, whether directly or not, is: how long is this supposed to last? There isn't a clean answer, and any promise of one should be treated with suspicion. Some liminal periods resolve in weeks. Others, particularly ones tied to identity, grief, or major life restructuring, can stretch across months or longer, and even "resolution" often turns out to be another kind of beginning rather than a clean finish line.

What tends to help more than a timeline is a shift in the question itself, from when will this end to how do I want to be, inside this, while it lasts.

Frequently Asked Questions About Navigating Uncertainty

What does it mean to be in a "liminal space" psychologically?

A liminal space refers to a transitional period between one identity, role, or life stage and the next, a threshold state where the old version of your life or self has ended, but the new one hasn't fully formed yet. The term comes from the Latin limen (threshold) and was first developed in anthropology to describe the middle phase of rites of passage, before being adopted more broadly in psychology to describe emotional and identity-based transitions.

Why does uncertainty feel so much worse than actual bad news sometimes?

Because the brain is a prediction system that relies on patterns to feel safe, ambiguity, the absence of a clear pattern can register as more threatening than a known negative outcome. Certainty, even unwelcome certainty, gives the nervous system something concrete to respond to. Uncertainty leaves it scanning indefinitely, which is part of why "not knowing" can feel more exhausting than knowing something difficult.

How long do liminal or in-between periods usually last?

It varies widely and depends on what's driving the transition. Some resolve within weeks; others, particularly those tied to identity change, grief, or major life restructuring, can last months. Rather than fixating on a timeline, it tends to help more to focus on how to stay steady and supported while inside the uncertainty, since the "end point" is often not fully within your control.

Is it normal to feel grief during an in-between period, even if nothing was technically "lost"?

Yes. Endings, even chosen, positive, or overdue ones often carry grief for the identity, routine, or version of life that existed within them. This grief doesn't always look like sadness; it can show up as restlessness, irritability, or flatness. Acknowledging that grief, rather than rushing past it toward "what's next," is often part of moving through the transition.

What's the difference between tolerating uncertainty and just giving up on planning?

Tolerating uncertainty isn't about abandoning planning or problem-solving, it's about not forcing a decision or resolution before it's genuinely ready, purely to relieve discomfort. It means staying engaged with the situation (gathering information, taking the steps that are actually available to you) while accepting that some parts of the outcome are not yet knowable or controllable, and building the internal steadiness to hold that gap without panic or shutdown.

When should someone seek professional support for uncertainty or a life transition?

If the uncertainty is affecting sleep, relationships, or day-to-day functioning, or if it seems to be surfacing older patterns, pain, or trauma alongside the current transition, that's often a signal the difficulty goes deeper than the present situation alone. A trauma-informed therapist can help work with both the current transition and whatever it's touching underneath.

Hope this helps in navigating and sitting with this slow, seemingly never-ending period that is the liminal space.

Love, C

---

Chitra is a Singapore-based Counsellor and Psychotherapist. If you would like to talk about your triggers, please reach out to me at chitra@liminalmindcounselling.com, WhatsApp at +65 8829 9343 or book an appointment via the appointment booking system on the website. We offer online and in-person counselling sessions in Singapore.

If you need urgent assistance, please reach out to your nearest hospital or you may reach out to the following helplines -

• National Mindline 1771: 24/7 mental health support (Call 1771, WhatsApp 6669 1771, or via mindline.sg).

• Samaritans of Singapore (SOS): 24/7 crisis support and suicide prevention at 1-767 or WhatsApp 9151 1767.

• Institute of Mental Health (IMH) Helpline: 6389 2222 (24/7).