The Psychology Of Liminal Space - What Happens In-Between?

Psychology Meets Wonder #2 of 15

I’ve written about it before. There’s a strange kind of emptiness that comes when one chapter ends and the next hasn’t quite begun. One door closes and another hasn’t opened yet.

You’ve left (whatever it is) behind — the job, the belief, the version of yourself you once were — but you haven’t landed somewhere new yet. You’re floating. Drifting. In limbo.

This is liminal space.

And even though it’s one of the most transformative phases of being human…we don’t really know how to stay in it, because that aimlessness feels uncomfortable, doesn’t it?

What Is Liminal Space, Anyway?

“Liminal” means being in an intermediate state, according the Merriam Webster, and comes from the Latin word limen, meaning threshold. It’s the space between what was and what’s next. A doorway – where you can close one door behind you and open another onto the unknowable future. It can show up during obvious transitions — a breakup, a loss, a move, a career change — but also in more subtle, inner shifts: when your values change, when a belief system undergoes a 180, when you don’t recognize who you really are anymore.

Psychologically, it’s a kind of identity limbo (which I’ll be talking about in a later Psychology Meets Wonder article on Identity Shifts). The person who you thought you were doesn’t fit anymore but the new you hasn’t solidified yet. It can feel disorienting, lonely, unproductive. But that’s not a bad thing, this period of kind of rest. Being stuck in this liminal space is like a cocoon. The stage in between a caterpillar and a butterfly It’s not pretty, or comfortable, but it’s where transformation lives. But at least we don’t collapse into a pile of goo, like butterflies do before they become butterflies!

What the Science Says

Dr. William Bridges, who pioneered the concept of transitions in his work on change and identity, describes this in-between phase as the neutral zone. In it, your brain is often flooded with uncertainty and ambiguity — and your nervous system doesn’t love that because it likes to know what’s going on. We’re wired to want predictability because that means safety. The brain prefers closure over confusion, even if the closure isn’t satisfying. So in liminal space, our cognitive alarms go off: Where am I going? What comes next? Who am I now?

But your brain, surprisingly, is also more flexible here. Something happens here when the usual patterns are suspended, the brain becomes more plastic (neuroplasticity)— more open to new connections, insights, meanings and it changes during these times of uncertainty. The loss of “normal” makes space for something more…honest. Your brain is literally re-wiring itself.

Anthropologists call liminal phases the heart of transformation — the messy middle of every rite of passage.

Why It Feels So Uncomfortable

Most of us are never taught how to be comfortable in this space of “not anymore” and “not quite yet.” We want to skip to the end of the book, the last chapter. We want to get to the good part.

But in liminal space, productivity doesn’t work. You can’t rush this or hustle through it. You can only allow it to unfold how and when it wants.

This is where wonder, softness, and slowness become essential. Because liminal space isn’t dead space (or dead time, to paraphrase Ryan Holiday). It’s alive time (again, thanks to Ryan Holiday for that phrase too). It’s fertile. Like when a volcano covers the landscape with lava, you might think everything is lost, everything is dead. But it’s the opposite. The soil is full of nutrients. You just have to be patient.

Tending the In-Between

If you’re in an in-between space right now — or know someone who is — here are a few things to keep in mind:

- You don’t need to “figure it all out.” Just notice what’s shifting.

- You might feel foggy, restless, or overly tender. That’s normal.

- Reflection helps — but so does distraction, beauty, rest, and tiny rituals.

- Name what’s ended. Honour it. Even if it hurt you, it shaped you.

- The new beginning isn’t late. It’s just not fully formed yet.

Wonder Lives Here Too

Liminal space is full of wonder — if you can stay observant long enough to notice it. You might find it in a song lyric that lands differently, a stranger doing something unexpectedly kind or a small moment of clarity in the mess.

You don’t need to rush to the next thing on your to-do list or 5 year life plan (I don’t really believe in 5 year life plans, to be honest. Our lives can change so much, veer so much off course in a short time that having a ‘plan’ is never something that should be set in stone). But you’re allowed to pause, to rebuild, to not know what’s next through the doorway – and being on that threshold is part of the whole thing.

Because wonder doesn’t wait for the new beginning — it shows up here, in the waiting. In the doorway. In the pause between who you were and who you’re becoming.

I’ll leave you with a gentle practice to help with being in this in-between:

Write a letter to the other version of yourself . Two, actually.

First write a letter to your past self - for the person you’re shedding — with honesty.

Then write a letter to the newer version of you that’s slowly forming — even if you don’t know who you really are yet.

Seal them up and keep them somewhere special, side by side. Companions, because they’re both parts of you.

If this letter found you at the right time, feel free to share it with someone else who might need a little wonder today.

And stay tuned for next week’s Psychology Meets Wonder: The Psychology of Nostalgia: Why we long for the past.

References:

What are liminal spaces in Psychology? https://www.healthline.com/health/liminal-space-psychology

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Arnold-van-Gennep

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With heartfelt thanks, always.
— Caitlin

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