“There’s a sacred softness in the in-between, if we’re brave enough to stay.” (Esther Joy Goetz)
She came to me holding back tears, describing a panic attack she had earlier that week.
“I couldn’t catch my breath,” my heart-wrecked client said. “It felt like my whole body was shutting down. I knew why, but that did not help.”
You see, her world is falling apart. Or it sure feels like it. Her future is unknown. Her life feels unsteady and she thought she’d be in a much different place than she is. She is living with the fragility of everything she thought was secure.
It’s not uncommon, really.
This sensation that the ground has given way.
That you’re floating—or drowning—in a sea of uncertainty.
That you’re not steering anything anymore, and maybe never were.
And in those moments, it’s easy to tighten. To try and grip onto something—anything—that feels like control.
Maybe we go back to what we know is not good for us.
Perhaps we spend time on the web checking to see what everyone in our situation has done and try all of it (at least for a day or two).
Who knows? We might even try to micromanage our kids, our partners, our schedules, just to feel powerful over something (that’s probably totally unrelated).
Or we to numb out entirely, hoping the storm passes without too much damage.
(Fill in the blank with what you do to numb yourself. I binge-watch crime shows and eat chips or I work work work work work.)
But what if, instead of clenching or collapsing, we practiced curiosity?
What if, when the breath catches, or the tears rise, or the overwhelm creeps in…
we didn’t try to fix it right away?
What if we let the unknown be a space we explored, instead of a problem we solved?
What if we approached the unraveling like an experiment?
Not in the scientific sense of hypothesis and result,
but in the soul sense of I wonder what might happen if I stayed present here just a little longer…
That moment when you don’t know what comes next?
It can feel like failure or chaos or fear.
But it can also be sacred ground.
The threshold space. The liminal. The holy middle.
Not the before. Not the after. But the becoming.
This is where the word “yet” holds power.
I don’t know… yet.
I can’t see the way… yet.
I don’t feel whole… yet.
I don’t trust this process… yet.
“Yet” is the breath between despair and hope.
It doesn’t rush the becoming, but it keeps the door open.
Maybe the question isn’t “How do I get out of this?”
but “What wants or needs to be spoken here?”
You don’t need to figure it all out.
You don’t need to hold it all together.
You are allowed to pause. To breathe. To wonder.
When I’m in the middle of it (which I also am right now), I try saying these phrases to myself:
I don’t know… but I’m listening.
I’m not certain… but I’m here.
I feel unsteady… but I’m still willing to stay with myself.
This is what soul care (and my spiritual direction practice) often becomes—a space to notice.
To get curious.
To soften into the moment without needing to define it.
To be met right in the middle of the mess with compassion, not conclusions.
So if you find yourself in the in-between,
if your world is wobbly or your heart is heavy,
if your breath feels short or your spirit feels scattered—
You’re not doing it wrong.
You’re just being human.
And even here, there is holy.
From my heart to yours,
Esther
🌀 Spiritual Director, Companion, and Believer in the Not Yet
P.S. What are some practices you do when you feel out of control? Also, how did this resonate with you? Anything helpful? Prickly? Feel trite?
If this has touched you and you want to invite others into this space, I would feel so honored if you would connect them with me. It’s really how I get my words and my resources available.
I am committed to being a compassionate companion on your journey to care for your soul, offering a supportive and non-judgmental space for reflection, contemplation, and exploration.
Whether you're seeking clarity in times of uncertainty, navigating life transitions, or simply desiring a deeper connection with your soul, I am dedicated to walk alongside you.
Your sacred path awaits.
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Here is a Substack newsletter that I subscribe to and actually pay for. I view her as my own spiritual director in many ways. She has an article that has a beautiful practice when you are too anxious to journal. It was a help to me and may be for you as well.
One of my favorite free tools is Insight Timer—a beautiful app full of meditations, music, and moments of stillness. Whether you're craving a few quiet minutes before the world wakes up or something grounding to end your day, there's something for every kind of soul.
"What if we let the unknown be a space we explored, instead of a problem we solved?" Brilliant, inspiring, thought-provoking wisdom. Esther Joy Goetz You're a beautiful gift to the soul.