Change never asks if you’re ready. It just arrives, without permission, tipping everything sideways. One moment you’re sitting in the comfort of the known, and the next, you’re somewhere else entirely.
Maybe you’ve just graduated and everything feels uncertain. You might be back in your hometown and feel like a stranger in a place that built you. You might be pouring lattes or stacking shelves because the job market has made anything else feel impossible. You might be watching your friends scatter across cities you can’t afford or that don’t fit you. You might be grieving a relationship, mourning not only the loss of someone you loved but the world you created together and the self you were within it.
Whether it’s one of those things or all of them at once, you’re in a place you didn’t plan to be. You wish for clarity, for control. But instead, you’re living a chapter you didn’t choose. Lost, unsure, hoping to go back or skip ahead.
You don’t need all the answers to take the first step. Even if it’s not ideal, you can still make the best out of a situation you can’t control: turning waiting into reflection, stillness into creativity, loneliness into time with yourself. Ask yourself: What can I gain here, even now?
Unemployment can feel like failure, but maybe this time isn’t empty – it’s available. You’ve been saying for years you wanted to write, or paint, or take that online course, or read those books. Now is the time your future self might miss. The version of you juggling a 9-to-5, a commute, and a social life might long for these quiet mornings, the space to think, to explore, to be aimless without guilt. This in-between phase may feel uncomfortable, but it’s also a chance to create something that your future self will be proud of.
Heartbreak is difficult. There’s no way to avoid the pain. But we can’t control what other people decide. What’s within your control is how you move forward. The extra time in your evenings, the quieter weekends – these can be redirected toward things that interest you, toward strengthening your friendships, or simply toward rest. You have full freedom to decide how to fill those moments, so try something you wouldn’t have considered before. Go to the beach alone and paint on rocks, then leave them behind for someone else to find. Browse vintage markets and buy something small that sparks joy, even if it doesn’t “serve a purpose.” Visit a local park and lie on the grass with a book, even if you don’t end up reading much. Go for long walks in unfamiliar neighbourhoods and let yourself get a little lost. Buy yourself fresh flowers. Rearrange your room. Change something, even if it’s small.
None of this will magically fix how you’re feeling, but that’s not the point. These are ways of reminding yourself that life still holds beauty, interest, and possibility. You’re allowed to enjoy it on your own. Life can be good, even when it’s quiet, even when it’s just yours. Truthfully, everyone else is temporary. Relationships shift, plans fall through, but you remain. Being able to enjoy life by yourself is one of the most reliable forms of strength you can carry.
Indeed, this may not be your favourite chapter, but you have to live it to reach the next ones. You can’t skip ahead. And after all, pain is a teacher too. You wouldn’t know joy if you didn’t know sorrow. You wouldn’t know calm without the chaos. You wouldn’t know light without darkness. So, if this feels heavy, it’s only because you’ve carried lightness before, and you will again.
And on the days when that perspective feels far away, come back to the small things. The cup of tea you made just right. The sun through the curtains. The friend who texted you without being asked. Practice gratitude, even when it feels like effort. Say it out loud. Write it down. Whisper it to yourself like a reminder: there is still something good here.
This space between who you were and who you’ll become isn’t just a waiting room. It’s a becoming all its own. Quietly and slowly, this is where you grow.
Another article you may enjoy: https://thebadgeronline.com/2025/07/surviving-university-with-emetophobia/
