Not all transitions begin with clarity. Most begin with discomfort because we not only dislike the unknown but also fear it.
We often speak of change as if it were a clean movement—from one defined point to another, as if endings naturally lead to beginnings or as if there is a clear path waiting to be taken. In reality, most transitions do not work that way. There is a space in between —unmarked, unstructured, uncertain. It is the space after loss, the applause, the role ends, and the routines that once defined our days are no longer there.
On May 1, I wrote about grief—the vacuum that follows the loss of someone who anchored our lives.
Then, I wrote about the loss of role—what happens when positions end, when identity shaped by public service or leadership is suddenly removed. This is where both of those journeys lead, to the same place. The in-between. It is here that a different kind of work begins.
Starting over
Starting over is often misunderstood. We imagine it as decisive, intentional, even empowering.
We think of reinvention as something we choose. But more often, it is something we are pushed into.
There is no script for this phase, no clear set of steps, and no guarantee that what worked before will work again. And so the instinct is to rush, to fill the silence, to replace what was lost with something new—quickly, decisively—so that the discomfort does not linger.
But the in-between resists urgency because this space is not meant to be bypassed. It is meant to be experienced.
There are days when nothing feels settled, when the direction is unclear, or when even small decisions feel heavier than they should. This is not failure. This is a transition.
Transition
It shows itself in different ways: in learning to sit with uncertainty, in resisting the need to define everything immediately, and in allowing questions to remain unanswered for a while.
What matters to me?
What does meaningful work look like—outside of what I used to do?
These are not questions that yield quick answers. They require time. And more importantly, they require honesty.
Starting over is not about recreating the past in a different form. It is about recognizing that the person who is beginning again is no longer the same person who started before.
There is a temptation to return to what is familiar. To rebuild the same structures, pursue the same validations, recreate the same identity—just in a different setting. Sometimes, that works. Often, it does not.
Transition, if allowed to do its work, changes us. It clarifies what we value. It reveals what we were holding on to—and why. It strips away what depends on circumstances and leaves what is intrinsic. That is where something new can begin, not suddenly or completely, but gradually—in small decisions, quiet shifts, and moments when we choose differently than we would have before.
Process of becoming again
Becoming again is not a single act. It is a process. It requires patience, the kind that does not demand immediate results and allows growth to unfold unevenly. It also requires humility to accept that we do not have all the answers, that we may need to learn again, and that we may not move with the same certainty we once had.
It requires trust not in a specific outcome but in the process itself —that something is taking shape, even if we cannot yet see it clearly.
In public service, we often define ourselves by our contribution—what we deliver, what we achieve, what we lead. These are important. They give structure and meaning. But there are moments in life when contribution must be redefined. Not in terms of scale or visibility—but in terms of alignment.
What is worth building—given what I have learned?
What kind of work still feels meaningful—without the need for recognition?
These are quieter questions, but they are deeper ones.
In the end, starting over is not about returning to where we were. It is about moving forward—differently.
There is no map for this, no certainty the path will be clear, and no assurance the outcome will resemble what we once had. But there is something else, something only this phase can offer. This is the opportunity to begin again—not from the same place, but from a deeper understanding of who we are.
Perhaps that is what transition is ultimately about. It is not just crossing over from one role to another, but allowing ourselves to be reshaped in the process.
So that when we begin again, we do so not out of urgency, not out of fear, not out of the need to replace what was lost—but out of clarity. The most meaningful beginnings are not the ones we plan. They are the ones we grow into.
- Direk Noreen
Image credit: AI-generated illustration (DALL·E via ChatGPT), based on the author’s concept of transition and “the in-between,” 2026.
