“Honor the space between no longer and not yet.” — Nancy Levin

I spent the day at the beach in beautiful Kona, Hawaii. It was the kind of day that makes you forget the concept of time. The sound of crashing waves, the turtles, the color of the moss on the rocks. I felt peacful, present, and myself.

It wasn’t until I returned to the car that I noticed the sign: “Visitor Parking closes at 4:00 PM.” I looked at the time…it was 30 minutes past that.

My thoughts shifted instantly and my heart raced and I noticed something else. The sign also read that after hours, your car might be locked in overnight. In a place I’d never been before, the thought of being stuck hit hard. My mind was already scripting a long, uncomfortable night ahead.

But when I got to the car, there was a blue slip on the windshield. Not a ticket. Not a warning. Just a simple message: “We saw your car and left the gate open. Please lock it behind you and leave this slip in the gate.”

I was stunned. The understanding. The trust. The assumption that maybe I had a human moment, that I meant no harm. It stopped me in my tracks.

Because I wondered: How often do I offer that kind of understanding to myself?

How quick are you to give yourself the benefit of the doubt when you make a wrong turn?

When a season ends or a connection fades, does your mind rush to judgment? Do you spiral into self-blame, or can you pause and say, “Maybe this is clearing the way for something better”?

The truth is, there’s no ending without a beginning. But in between those two moments is a transition. A stretch of space that can feel foggy and uncomfortable. There is quite a bit of unknown there and I often refer to it as liminal space.

Maybe you’re in it now. Maybe you’ve recently walked away from something or someone. Maybe you didn’t even want to let go, but your body knew it was time. Maybe it felt like a failure.

But what if it’s just part of the re-alignment? What if that ending was life inviting you back to yourself?

When we start seeing clearly, when we stop ignoring the red flags, or stop trying to fix what can’t be fixed, it’s natural to feel loss. Sadness. Even guilt.

But here’s what I want you to remember: Not every hard thing is a punishment. Not every ending means you did something wrong. Sometimes, it’s just time doing it’s thing.

If you’re feeling low energy, emotionally drained, or like the old ways of coping aren’t working anymore—those are signs. Not failures. Not flaws. Signals.

Signals that a new beginning is unfolding, even if you can’t see it yet.

Instead of asking: “Why didn’t I see this coming? Why didn’t I listen sooner?”

Try asking: “What part of me is being invited to grow? What new way of being is ready to emerge?”

It’s not that we should’ve known. It’s that now we know better.

If something (or someone) is leaving your life, ask yourself gently:

• What did this teach me?
• What part of myself am I reclaiming now?
• What new space is opening for me?

And most importantly: What happens when I assume the best about myself?

That day on the beach reminded me: joy, beauty, and awe live right beside fear and uncertainty. Circumstances can shift what we pay attention to at any given moment. And even when we think we’ve messed it all up, life sometimes leaves the gate open.

Trust that you’re being taken care of. Not because you’ve earned it by doing everything right but because you deserve grace, especially from yourself.

You’re not behind. You’re becoming.

And that matters.

Written by: Grace Alexis

Timestamp: 5:00 am HST