Releasing The Middle

There’s a part of the journey no one prepares you for —
the middle.

Not the beginning, where everything feels hopeful and new.
Not the ending, where everything finally makes sense.
But the in-between space where you’re no longer who you were…
and not yet who you’re becoming.

The middle is uncomfortable.
Awkward.
Stretching.
Exposing.

It’s the season where old habits stop fitting,
but new ones don’t feel natural yet.
Where old identities feel tight,
but the new one hasn’t settled on your skin.
Where you know you’ve outgrown the past,
but the future hasn’t introduced itself fully.

The middle feels like waiting —
but it’s actually becoming.

And still, I held onto it.
Not because it was beautiful,
but because it was familiar.
Not because it was healthy,
but because it was predictable.
Not because it fed me,
but because it kept me from having to leap.

We rarely cling to the middle out of love.
We cling out of fear.

Fear of change.
Fear of discomfort.
Fear of being wrong.
Fear of needing more.
Fear of being asked to rise into something unfamiliar.
Fear of trusting ourselves beyond the limits of who we used to be.

The middle is safe.
But safe is not always sacred.

One day, I realized the middle had become a holding cell —
a place where I kept shrinking just to fit.
Where I kept quieting what needed speaking.
Where I kept downplaying what needed honoring.

The middle wasn’t stabilizing me —
it was stalling me.

And I knew it was time to release it.

Releasing the middle is not a dramatic moment.
It’s not fireworks or declarations.
It’s subtle.
Internal.
Quiet.

It’s the moment you stop negotiating with your own knowing.
It’s the moment you stop explaining your growth to people committed to misunderstanding it.
It’s the moment you stop treating your intuition like a suggestion.
It’s the moment you stop shrinking to stay palatable.

Releasing the middle is choosing discomfort over dilution.
It’s choosing truth over tolerance.
It’s choosing movement over stagnation.
It’s choosing alignment over approval.

It’s stepping into the version of you who finally says:
I will not stay here just because I’m not sure what’s next.

When I released the middle, I opened a door I didn’t know existed —
a door to clarity,
to creativity,
to calling,
to presence.

When I stopped gripping the in-between,
my hands were free enough to receive what was meant for me.

The middle served a purpose.
It held me when I didn’t trust the next step.
It witnessed my confusion, my processing, my questioning.
It gave me room to gather myself.

But it was never meant to be my home.

Releasing the middle isn’t about rushing to the end.
It’s about trusting that the next chapter is waiting on the other side of your courage.

And now?
I’m ready for what’s next.
I’m ready for what’s real.
I’m ready for the version of me that the middle could no longer contain.

I released the middle.
And in doing so,
I finally made room for the rise.