I’ve really struggled with where to begin.
In this next phase of sharing my journey, I kept feeling like I needed a neat, polite, linear entrance—something logical, tidy and presentable. As if there was only one acceptable doorway into being seen: the one where everything already makes sense.
But the truth is, part of who I am and what I’m here to do is share from the in-between.
From the becoming.
From the process in progress.
Not with a neat little bow to tie it all up, but right from the middle—while I’m still inside it.
I’ve noticed this old pattern in myself (you may have too): I come out of the shadows when I’ve got it “figured out,” when I can look back with hindsight, pull all the threads together and package it into something that feels logical and worth sharing. I slink away to do the messy part in private and only re-emerge once I can present a lesson, a conclusion, a polished perspective.
It has always felt safer that way. Less risky. More acceptable.
Because somewhere in me, I believed there was no juice, no value, no relevance in sharing the mess—the gunk I’m wading through, the uncertainty, the rawness, the questions that don’t yet have answers.
But there is so much that happens in those in-between moments.
When I turn inward.
When I’m integrating and healing.
When I’m shifting timelines and shedding identities.
When I’m in that space between who I was and who I’m becoming.
And the truth is: I’m not afraid of the work. I’m not afraid to look under the rug, face the trigger, sit with the discomfort or meet the edges of my own evolution. Becoming the highest and truest expression of myself has always been my north star.
If there’s a belief, a fear, a habit or an old identity holding me back, I’m going to sit with it. Get curious. Ask where it lives. Ask what it needs. Let it soften. Let it unburden itself. Let it rest.
I don’t do stagnation well.
I’m here to grow. To evolve. To rise.
So when I’m between identities or levels of expansion, I’m not sitting on my hands. I’m deep in the trenches. And sometimes it feels like a battlefield where the only one I’m at war with is a former version of myself.
And honestly? I want to be better at sharing this part.
Letting myself be seen in the messy middle—not just when things are polished and pretty and I can pretend I’ve got it all figured out. Because I don’t.
I’m absolutely winging it. Making it up as I go. Asking more questions than I ever have answers for.
Meanwhile, the washing piles up. We eat the same dinner two nights in a row. I procrastinate. I overanalyze — I am endlessly human.
For so much of my life, the real growth has happened underground—unseen, unshared, unspoken. Seasons of rooting, breaking down, rebuilding and becoming in the dark. Like bamboo, which can spend years strengthening its foundation beneath the soil before a single shoot appears above the earth—and then suddenly, once it’s ready, it rises fast, true, unmistakably itself.
I’ve been living in that underground season for a long time.
And now, I’m realising: that season is part of my message. Part of my magic. Part of what I’m here to invite others into.
My work—my writing, my presence—is about honoring the invisible becoming. The tender rooting before the rise. The middle. The mess. The evolution that isn’t finished yet.
Because becoming isn’t just what we see above the surface.
Becoming is everything that deepened quietly below it.
So this is me, letting myself be seen before the conclusion. Before the clarity. Before the ta-da moment.
Right here.
Right now.
In the messy middle.
Musings from the In-Between
Until next time,
Rhi xx
