Liminal Resilience: Healing in the Space Between Endings and Beginnings

Why being present in life’s in-between moments nurtures growth—for your clients and yourself.

As coaches, therapists, healers, social workers, and other care professionals, we often hold space for changes—for transformations. But what about the space in between? The place where old identities fall away, before the new one begins? That space has a name: the liminal. And it’s one of the most powerful (and uncomfortable) places we can guide clients—and ourselves—through. 

What Is the Liminal?

There's space between what was and what will be. It's quiet there. Tender. Dark. Sometimes terrifying. Sometimes brilliant. It's the moment between waves crashing onto the beach. It's where the past is past and the future is waiting. You can still see the old water receding, even as the new wave rises to meet it. And for a breath, the past and future are present. This is the liminal. This is the in-between. It’s the transition. The unnamed.

The liminal is your gift. It is the gift past-you gave yourself by getting through each moment. It's a gift you're wrapping up for future-you to enjoy. Liminal comes from the Latin limen, meaning “threshold.” It’s defined as "occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold." In other words: in transition. Not quite where you were. Not yet where you’re going. Important—and, at times, terrifying. They are all part of the unknown. We, as humans, like to know. We like control. The liminal worries us. We want to be where the wave meets the beach and that new crashing forth. Now. 

Why We Fear It

Humans want to be at that finish line. How many times have you said: “I just want to have started the new job already,” or “I just want to be moved in,” or “I just want the holiday season to be over.” It boils down to: “I just want to be there instead of here.” That place ahead—the light at the end of the tunnel, the next crashing wave—we believe it’s where things will feel better. We crave arrival. Society rewards forward movement, not a pause. Not enjoying this moment right now. However, focusing on that goalpost (especially when it keeps moving just out of reach) instead of this moment is what leads to burnout, anxiety, and a whole host of other issues. 

This is where resilience becomes essential. Resilience means the ability to recover from difficulty—to bend, not break. To stretch, and still return. It’s toughness with tenderness. To stand when the wave flows back, drawing you into your past. To also stand when the new wave crashes down around you. Together, they mean the capacity to stay present through transformation. Liminal resilience is the courage to stay when nothing makes sense, yet.

Resilience in the In-Between

Humans have a collective impulse to rush, numb, bypass, or just "move on." We fear the unknown, the liminal. When we can’t fix the discomfort, we try to outrun it through productivity, perfectionism, or collapse. We may be grieving the loss of a job, a relationship, our home, a pet, some truth we believed, or any number of other important areas of our lives. Or we may be on the cusp of a big change, something new, the bright yet unknown future. 

My Story of Burnout & Breakthrough

Years ago, I was a full-blown people-pleasing workaholic. I was proud to always be the first one in and the last one to leave at night. I kept thinking if I could just do everything, I would be seen and valued in a way I'd never experienced. As a social worker, I also wanted to show up perfectly for my clients to give them the support and resources to lead their own best lives. I wasn't taking care of myself, I wasn't eating regularly, and no matter how hard I worked, the problems piled up higher and higher. The anxiety, depression, and eventually resentment grew until I was deep in an oubliette of emotions. My friends saw this well before I did. I was fortunate. Too many people are encouraged and even rewarded to stay in that cycle. 

I finally left that job—and it changed everything. I carved out one quiet week between endings and beginnings, determined to do it differently this time. I knew I needed to give serious consideration to what would be different in the future. This was my first intentional liminal moment. I took that week to recover, care for myself, and tap into the resilience that had carried me through so much already. I tapped into what made me resilient to get through that job and all the other moments in my life where there was struggle, difficulty, unknown, and sometimes even terror. 

By realizing how I’d gotten through so much already, I knew I could navigate whatever came next. Whatever wave was crashing down next. I'd like to say that epiphany stayed with me. That from then on I was grounded and mindful. But instead, it was only the first step towards getting my feet more solidly on the ground. I've still had challenges and moments when I realize I'm looking at the goalpost way ahead, forgetting that where I am right now was once a distant goalpost. I’ve crossed countless goalposts without pause—rarely honoring how far I’d come before setting the next one. Never realizing how many I've surpassed. 

What you meet in the liminal becomes part of who you become after.

How to Practice Liminal Resilience

Liminal resilience reminds us: this moment is enough. You don’t need all the answers. You just need to stay with the feelings, the uncertainty, the breath. Feel. Don’t rush. Take stock of where you truly are, where you were, and where you want to be. Your future is next year, next month, next week, tomorrow, and just an hour from now. Don't rush the liminal. Stay. Let it be slow. Let it envelop you like warm water—gentle, supportive, buoyant—while you swim your own path

As professionals, it’s tempting to want to help clients move forward quickly. But transformation requires patience with the pause. When we model tolerance for the unknown, we invite our clients to trust their own pace. That’s the essence of space-holding: making room for the wisdom in the wait. Staying present with clients in the liminal allows us to honor their pacing, autonomy, and emotional safety—core tenets of trauma-informed care. 

A Liminal Pause: a reflection practice. 

Consider setting the scene for yourself. Decide what will make you feel most at ease to reflect in this moment. Maybe light a candle. Spray a favorite scent or light some incense. Put on some music. If it feels safe, close your eyes. If it feels comfortable, tune into your breath. You can reflect internally, with a supportive person, and/or with a journal. Let the liminal envelop you like a warm tide—gentle, steady, and always in motion. 

What’s ending in your life right now? Name three.

What’s emerging—still unclear, still forming? Name three.

Breathe. Feel the space in between.

What comes up? 

Want to stay with the liminal a little longer? Next week, we will be the first post in a three-part series exploring how trauma responses show up in coaching spaces, both in the client and the coaches. What looks like resistance is often the nervous system saying, “I’m not ready yet.”