Notes from the In-Between

There is a particular quiet that only shows up when you step away from the churn of work. It is not laziness. It is not indecision. It is the kind of quiet that lets you hear your own thoughts again. I have been living in that quiet between jobs. Here is what I have been learning, and what I want to carry with me into what comes next.

1) Do not make decisions when you are upset

I used to think decisive meant immediate. Lately I have learned that decisive can also mean measured. When something stings, my first instinct is to fix it fast. The pause has shown me that the first feeling is not the full story. If I act while I am angry, I am usually acting on the noisiest part of the moment, not the truest part.

So I am trying a new rule: name the feeling, meet my basic needs, and wait. Water first. A walk. A shower. A notebook. Sleep, if I can. Only then do I touch the decision. Most choices look very different after the nervous system has had a chance to come back to neutral.This has changed small things, like how I respond to an email, and big things, like how I think about career moves. The pause is not avoidance. It is respect for the weight of the choice.

2) Know what you will and will not tolerate

Boundaries are often framed as lines we draw for other people. Lately I am practicing boundaries as promises I keep with myself. What I will and will not tolerate is not a list to hand out. It is a quiet agreement about how I will respond when those lines are crossed.

Here is what that looks like in practice:

• I will ask for clarity when expectations are vague.
• I will push back, politely and firmly, if a process is unsafe or out of alignment with my values.
• I will leave situations that persistently require me to shrink.
• I will allow myself to be new at things without apology.
• I will not ignore my body when it tells me it is running on fumes.

When someone steps over a boundary, I am learning to assume they either did not know it was there or they are testing whether I will honor it. Either way, the next step is mine. That has been surprisingly empowering.

3) Let the small joys count for more than you think

There is a kind of happiness that never makes it into an annual report. I am collecting it anyway.

• Sun on my face for ten minutes, no phone in my hand.
• The feel of a freshly vacuumed floor under my feet.
• The exact moment a puzzle piece that never seemed to fit slides in with a soft click.
• Catching up on shows I actually enjoy, without pretending I should be multitasking.
• The warm, heavy quiet of a house where everyone is doing their own thing in their own corner.

These are not fillers between the “real” parts of life. They are anchors. When I give them weight, the rest of the day feels more honest.

What I have been up to while the dust settles

Some days have been practical. Some have been playful. All have been part of recalibrating.

• Catching up on shows I like, the ones I paused when life got loud. Letting a good story work on me while I rest.
• Finding fun in hobbies again. Picking up creative threads I had dropped.
• Spending time with family before my daughter begins her senior year of high school. The clock is loud in the sweetest way. I am saying yes to ice cream runs and late-night talks because I can.
• Working on a puzzle. Puzzles are honest teachers. When I force a piece, the picture lies. When I walk away and return, what felt impossible becomes obvious.
• Taking a pottery lesson. Clay does not care about your résumé. If you are not centered, everything wobbles. There is something holy about steadying the wheel with your hands and trying again.
• Making friendship bracelets. So many bracelets. Color as therapy. Repetition as meditation. I might even open an Etsy shop to share them.
• Schoolwork. Showing up for my program, one assignment at a time, even through the transitions.
• Pre-employment paperwork for returning to a previous job. There is comfort in the familiar and pride in choosing it intentionally.
• Catching up on doctors’ appointments. Maintenance is not glamorous, but future me deserves a body that is cared for.

None of this is headline material. All of it is life.

What the pause is teaching me about work

The in-between is not a holding pattern. It is a place where you practice the habits you hope to bring back with you.

Clarity beats speed. If a decision cannot stand one night of sleep, it was probably not stable to begin with.

Boundaries travel. If I do not practice them at home, I will not magically have them at work. The muscle gets built in ordinary moments.

Simplicity restores capacity. Ten minutes of sunlight and a vacuumed room do more for my focus than another hour of doom-scrolling ever will.

Craft matters. Whether it is a pot on a wheel or a paragraph on a screen, the satisfaction of making something well spills into every other part of the day.

Seasons shift. I am getting ready to step back into a role I know and care about. I want to bring with me the calm, the better questions, and the slower yes.

A small toolkit I am taking forward

I like ending with things I can actually use. Here are mine.

• A decision script: What happened? What do I feel? What do I know for sure? What can wait until tomorrow?
• A boundary sentence: “I cannot take that on, but here is what I can do,” or “That does not work for me. Let’s try this instead.”
• A daily anchor: One small pleasure I can count on. Sun, tidy space, tea, five rows of a bracelet. Non-negotiable and brief.
• A learning practice: Be new at something on purpose. It keeps me humble and curious.
• A check-in: Ask, “Is this choice aligned with the values I wrote down on a good day?” If not, why am I making it?

The time between jobs has not fixed everything. It was never meant to. What it has done is remind me that I do not need to outrun my life to live it well. I can pause. I can choose slowly. I can protect what matters. I can let small joys carry more weight than they used to.

The next chapter will have its share of messy middle moments. Mine will, too. But I am going back with steadier hands, clearer lines, and a deep respect for the quiet that helped me find them. This pause has reminded me that growth does not always come from doing more, but often from doing less and listening closely. Whatever challenges and changes are ahead, I want to meet them with the same patience, boundaries, and small joys that carried me through the in-between.