You can spend an entire day being needed and never once ask yourself what you need.
You answer the emails. Make the decisions. Show up for your clients, your team, your family. Even your downtime has a purpose: squeeze in a workout, catch up on a podcast, prepare for tomorrow.
Your life is full. But where, in all that fullness, do you get to hear yourself?
On my own journey toward more work-life balance, I’ve been drawn to more yin energy: slowing down, receiving, and allowing a moment to unfold without trying to improve it.
Along the way, I’ve discovered what I call the in between.
These are sacred spaces between the routines and responsibilities of everyday life. Moments when I step out of the roles I carry and spend time with the person underneath them.
For me, they often look like meditation, sitting in the sauna, or a cold plunge session.
In meditation, I practice sitting with whatever is there, including the part of me that wants to get up and accomplish something.
In the sauna, there is nowhere I need to rush. I can feel the warmth, notice my breathing, and let a thought arrive without immediately turning it into an action item.
In the cold plunge, the intensity brings my attention to this breath, this body, this moment.
Sometimes these spaces offer solitude. Other times, they offer community: a conversation after a session, a shared laugh, the ease of being with people without needing to impress them.
What makes these spaces sacred is the quality of attention I bring to them.
I get to be present. To listen inward. To feel connected to something larger than my calendar.
You might call that intuition, your spiritual self, or your higher self. For me, it’s the part of us that can sense what matters before we’ve built a spreadsheet to justify it.
And it can be difficult to hear when every spare moment is filled.
When you’re used to performing at a high level, an unclaimed moment can feel uncomfortable. You reach for your phone. Find something to organize. Remember one more person you should get back to.
But stay for a moment.
Beneath the urge to fill the space, there may be something asking for your attention.
A desire you’ve been postponing. A sadness you haven’t let yourself feel. An idea that excites you. The realization that the life you’ve worked so hard to build needs more room for you in it.
The in between gives those things somewhere to surface.
Your version might be a quiet walk, a few minutes on the porch, prayer, or time with people around whom you can fully exhale. It can begin with ten minutes you allow to remain your own.
As you plan your week, ask yourself:
Where do I have space to come back to myself?
You’ve learned how to make things happen. There is also power in becoming still enough to recognize what you want to happen next—and what you want to experience while you’re here.
The In Between: Where I Come Back to Myself
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