Lately, I’ve noticed that I’m waiting on a lot of decisions. Some are small. Others could change the direction of my life. A job offer. A conversation. Someone else’s decision that directly affects me.

In these situations, there is very little left for me to do. I’ve done my part. Now I’m on the receiving end—not a very comfortable place for me. I usually know what I want, and I want what I want fiercely. I like clarity. I like making decisions. I want to know what comes next, and what comes after next.

The state of limbo is the hardest place for me. With nothing left to do but wait, my brain goes into overdrive. It wants to figure out something it can still control. That’s when I replay conversations, read between the lines, predict outcomes, imagine worst-case scenarios, or look for clever ways to influence something that is no longer mine to influence.

It’s such a waste of energy.

And then, when the decision finally arrives, I often feel tremendous relief—even when it’s not what I wanted. Probably because I was holding so much tension, and now I’m finally able to move out of limbo.
Over the years, I’ve made a real effort to make friends with limbo. I’ve realized that waiting doesn’t have to be a place of anxiousness. It can also be a place of possibility.

Because life keeps showing me that it’s rarely just one thing or the other. Life is both—what we want and what we don’t want. We eventually find joy in things we once rejected, and sometimes we outgrow the very things we once fought so hard for.

I want to pay more attention to the sweetness in between, when everything is still unclear and I can dream about what could be. I can still change my mind if I want. I can experiment with something completely different. I can even learn to want what the unknown has in store for me.

Believing that only one outcome can possibly be good for me creates an attachment that, if it doesn’t happen, easily turns into anxiety and frustration. Instead, I try to relax into the uncertainty itself—to see it as an opportunity rather than something to rush through, and to make room for the possibility that life may be bringing me something I don’t yet know I need.

While we’re waiting to find out which door will open, perhaps the real invitation is to remain open ourselves.

If you’d like to practice slowing down and making space for whatever is unfolding in your own life, Laura and I would love to welcome you to our next Heart on Paper journaling workshop on August 18th. This month’s theme is Dishing it Up, where we’ll use food as a doorway into memories, relationships, and the stories that gather around the table.
Details and tickets via our website
https://questforyou.com/writing/heart-on-paper/

Warmly,
Janine