Transitions
- Emma Duncan
- Apr 17
- 4 min read
There is a theory in various counselling modalities that transitions have 3 phases: an ending phase, a no man’s land, and a beginning. Another theorist uses the words awakening, letting go and emerging. The ending or awakening phase is that feeling that something isn’t working anymore, or a dissatisfaction with some aspect of your life - it could be a job, a relationship, a house or area, a spiritual practice..anything really! There is a growing awareness that a change needs to happen, or Carl Rogers might describe this as incongruity - the feeling that we are at odds with ourselves in some way. So we begin to end our relationship to that part of our lives.
For me, I knew it was time to move back to Northern Ireland. I felt that the portion of my life in Bristol was coming to an end because there were people and things I wanted to be in Belfast for. Many endings happened as a result - jobs, the ease of seeing friends, my flat etc etc. It has been 2 years of dismantling and ending things. Of course, endings come with feelings of loss and grief, as well as the excitement of change and new adventures. It’s important to acknowledge the whole mix!
Are there areas of your life now where you are feeling an awakening to dissatisfaction? You know a change is coming in some way? What might be ending? What feelings does that bring up for you - the whole mix, not just the sad ones, all of them.
The no man’s land, or the letting go phase, is an uncomfortable wait. It’s the now-and-yet-not-yet place of having finished one thing, ended somewhere, moved on from a situation, only to find yourself not quite sure what’s next, or not quite integrated into the next thing, or waiting to feel ‘normal’ again while still trying to deal with the feelings that got stirred up in the endings. This is where I am. I’ve moved. Some things are becoming clearer, like what I will do on a Saturday afternoon (my mum and aunt have gone shopping every Saturday afternoon for my whole life. I used to be left with my Grandparents when I was small, and now I go along. Every week!) I have clients and supervisees booked in to regular slots. I know where my house is. However, what do I do in the gaps between clients or Saturday afternoons? Who do I know? What is in my area to do? Who are my neighbours? What are they like? So many unknowns and things that take time to even find out, never mind feel comfortable with! Even my new home, it’s mine, but it doesn’t feel like mine yet. I don’t feel altogether comfortable here. The smell is still someone else’s, the walls are their colours, the kitchen needs replaced… We tend to, as humans, want to fix all of this immediately to get rid of the discomfort or the not knowing. We jump into new relationships too fast, we make snap decisions about colours for front doors (mossy green?!), we push to make the ‘new’ feel ‘normal’. This can sometimes lead to mistakes and regrets and decisions that have to be unpicked.
Are you in this no man’s land in some part/s of your life? Are there areas where you feel uncomfortable in the not-quite-knowing? Are you rushing to make that more comfortable when it might be better to wait and see what emerges?
The last phase, the new beginnings, or the emerging phase, is where things start to feel comfortable again, or they take shape and form and are describable, understandable, knowable. I like the word emerging for this phase, because it reminds me to let it ‘emerge’, a slower word than ‘begin’. Like something appearing on the horizon and getting closer, I can see more detail as time goes on and I become part of the landscape in time. I’m trying to avoid the urge to teleport myself into the new thing too fast.
Can you see what’s emerging for you? What’s taking shape? Do you recognise the urge to just make it happen, maybe too quickly?
Part of my job as a therapist is to help my clients to sit in the not-yet discomfort of the no man’s land, to allow the grief of loss and endings to be processed, and to allow space for them to shepherd in what is emerging at a pace that avoids mistakes or regrets. Sometimes that feels so hard in the room, because of course I want clients to feel better, to make progress, to enjoy their lives, to move on from endings. But sometimes that isn’t actually what’s needed, and it can feel like we are circling the same things over and over. Maybe you’ve experienced that in therapy? But I like to imagine it is like an enormous drill; it is slowly circling round and round, and it looks like it isn’t getting anywhere, but the grooves are getting deeper each time - maybe incrementally, but it’s happening. Each time we take out a feeling or a memory to look at, it gets put back slightly altered and eventually we will break through to the next phase.
It’’s beautiful work.

Comments