Everyone has an opinion on my transformation

The buffet paddle I wish I could grant to everyone in the liminal space!

I tried to write about this last week, and a different story came out. That sometimes happens because a message has urgency. I intend to write one post, and another one entirely comes off the tips of my fingers into the keyboard.

That’s not what happened last week.

In fact, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t write the story I meant to. Until yesterday, when I realized it was because I don’t have the answers (oh, how liminal of me!), and that was irking me. I still don’t, but instead of answers, I’m going to lay out the question. Perhaps we can solve it together.

I was talking with a dear friend about this phenomenon that happens when big change is on the horizon (in other words, when we’re in the liminal zone on the precipice of some sort of new life). It’s this:

People have opinions on what’s best for us.

And they share them (sometimes directly, sometimes with a “oooh, that’s what you’re doing?”, sometimes with a question: “where are you on finding work again?”).

It’s so normal.

And yet, it can trigger such emotional responses from those of us in the liminal zone. Defensiveness. (“I know what I’m doing, so there!”). Doubt. (“Do I know what I’m doing? Maybe that person is right.”). Deflection. (“Nothing to see here; how ‘bout those Yankees?”). Protectiveness. (“You don’t know me the way I know me.”) (Sorry, that last P word is driving me nuts, too. I couldn’t find a D one!)

I have a friend that got so fed up with the continual question “what’s next for you?” that she finally wrote her friends a cease and desist letter. “Do not ask me again. I will tell you when there’s something to share.”

For myself, I have been known to just not tell anyone anything until after the change is already in motion and can’t be undone. My friends don’t love that move. And it doesn’t make me feel great either. I feel like I’m hiding more than I’m transforming.

So, the question is this: How do we talk about the liminal space when we’re not sure we want to talk about it or what to talk about?

I’ve been playing around with what the answer might be. I kept thinking it was a mapping of who is in your life and planning out what you say when the ambiguities in your life come up in conversation.

I think that’s still part of it. Figuring out the stories you want to share and who you want to share them with. And when.

But, as I was chatting with my friend last night, I recalled these words from author Elizabeth Gilbert, a prolific and vulnerable storyteller (you may recall her Eating, Praying, Loving across Italy, India, and Indonesia). She said once, when asked a question about her life: “This is a story I’m living, not a story I’m telling.”

Yes.

Now, that was to the public, but I can’t help but imagine she has a version of that for her circle of friends and family. Maybe I could use that, too? (In my head, I see Liz saying this with a breezy elegance to her closest confidants, in a way I could never pull off. But still.)

The thing is, when we’re in the midst of big changes, it’s not just our career that’s shifting or the city we live in that’s changing or a relationship that’s forming (or detonating?). It’s that our sense of self is changing, our identity is morphing.

And this is incredibly personal work. I am the only person on this planet who knows who I am and who I am supposed to be. Same for you. Same for everyone. Which means, we all have a different way of seeking that clarity. Some go inward. Some process in public. Some deflect opinions, some seek them out.

It’s not that we don’t care about the opinions of people around us. It’s that in times of in-between, I think we want more control over when and how opinions come to us. And more innocuous statements can feel like judgments, even if not intended that way.

Also, when we’re evolving, it can feel uncomfortable for our friends. Will we shift so much that we change right out of their lives? What does our change say about their own lives? We could be unknowingly triggering core questions about their identities, without even realizing it.

Mostly, the people who love us want the best for us. So, their questions are meant as protection (of us or them!) or concern or genuine excitement. But, when we’re in the midst of the unknowing, they can hit so much differently than that.

I kind of want to build all us in-betweeners one of those paddles you get at all-you-can-eat buffets. The ones that say “I’m still working” on one side, and “I’m done” on the other. So that everyone around us knows what we need: time and space, or a celebratory dessert!

But in the absence of that paddle, I, like many liminal-riders, am left to bumble through these moments. Sometimes, I share the highlights reel; sometimes I get vulnerable. Sometimes I listen intently when opinions are proffered; sometimes I run a silent “nah nah nah, I can’t hear you” in my head (those are my more mature moments ;). But often, I choose to limit what I share and to whom.

I’m so curious, does sharing where you are in your liminal journey feel tender to you? And how do you navigate these delicate moments?