What life transitions actually feel like in the middle by Jennifer Taylor

Most people expect a transition to feel like turning a page, but in my work with adults navigating career shifts, relationship changes, and identity questions, the middle stretch feels more like standing in fog. You know something ended and something else will begin, but right now you're just disoriented, and that in-between space can last months longer than anyone warns you about.

Key takeaways

The hardest part of any transition is the disorienting middle phase, which typically lasts longer than the ending or beginning.
Adults average 36 major life disruptions in a lifetime, with 3 to 5 being identity-shaking events that fundamentally reshape who you are.
Routine and structure become even more important during transitions because they anchor you when everything else feels unstable.
Attaching meaning to the chaos (viewing it as growth, a learning moment, or a chance to help others) makes the experience significantly easier to endure.
Most people underestimate how long it takes to feel normal again, and that mismatch between expectation and reality often becomes its own source of stress.

The middle is where people get stuck

When someone comes to me saying they're struggling with a transition, they're almost never in the first week. The acute shock of a job loss, a breakup, a move, or a health diagnosis has its own adrenaline. You're busy notifying people, packing boxes, updating resumes, processing paperwork. The problem shows up two months later when the initial momentum fades and you're still not sure who you are in this new setup.

I see this constantly with working professionals who leave a long-term role. The first few weeks off feel like vacation. By week six they're sitting on my couch saying, "I thought I'd feel more like myself by now." The fog is thickest in that middle stretch because you've lost the old structure (the commute, the meetings, the identity of being the person who did that job) but you haven't built the new one yet. You're between stories about yourself, and humans hate that.

Research backs this up. According to Bruce Feiler's work on life transitions, adults average 36 major disruptions in a lifetime, with 3 to 5 being what he calls "lifequakes": identity-shaking events that fundamentally reshape who you are. The middle phase of those lifequakes is where most people feel the most lost, because it's neither the crisis nor the resolution. It's just waiting in uncertainty, and our brains are terrible at that.

Why routine matters more during transitions than any other time

One of the first things I do with clients in transition is ask about their daily structure. Not their goals, not their feelings, just: what does Monday through Friday actually look like right now? Nine times out of ten, the answer is "all over the place." They're sleeping in some days, working late others, skipping meals, letting the gym membership lapse. It makes sense. When your external structure collapses (the job, the relationship, the city you lived in), it's easy to let the internal structure collapse too.

But that's exactly backward. When everything else is unstable, routine becomes the thing that keeps you tethered. I worked with a client last year who lost his job and immediately stopped his morning routine: coffee, meditation, a bit of reading before 7am. He figured he didn't need it anymore since he wasn't commuting. Three months later he was deeply depressed, sleeping until noon, and couldn't figure out why. We rebuilt that morning block first, before we touched job applications or career planning. Within two weeks his mood lifted. The routine gave him a floor to stand on.

This aligns with what we know about behavioral activation. When you're in the fog of a transition, the temptation is to wait until you feel better before you start doing things again. But it works the other way: doing things in a consistent rhythm creates the feeling of stability, which then creates the feeling of being okay. I tell clients to pick three non-negotiable daily anchors (a wake time, one meal, one small physical task) and protect those no matter what. It sounds too simple to work, but it's often the thing that turns the corner.

Meaning is what makes the middle bearable

The other piece that shows up in almost every transition conversation is the question of why. Why is this happening, what's it for, what am I supposed to learn from this? People who can attach some kind of meaning to the chaos do measurably better than people who can't. A 2018 study on resilience found that enduring a transition is significantly easier when you can frame the experience as teaching you something, helping someone else, or connecting to a broader sense of purpose.

I'm careful with this one because it can veer into toxic positivity fast. I'm not saying every hard thing happens for a reason or that you need to be grateful for a layoff. But I do notice that clients who can say "this is showing me what I actually value" or "I'm learning I'm more adaptable than I thought" have an easier time than clients who frame it as pure randomness or punishment. The difference isn't in the event itself but in whether you can locate yourself as an active participant in the story rather than just a victim of circumstances.

One way I help clients do this is by asking what they'd tell a friend going through the same thing. People are almost always kinder and more meaning-making when they imagine advising someone else. Then we work on turning that same lens back on themselves. It's not about finding a silver lining. It's about finding a thread of agency, even a small one, that reminds you you're still the protagonist.

When to expect the fog to lift

The question I get asked most is: how long will this last? And the honest answer is longer than you want it to. Most people expect a transition to resolve in weeks. In my experience, the disorienting middle phase usually runs three to six months for a moderate transition (job change, breakup, relocation) and closer to a year for a lifequake (divorce, major illness, career reinvention, loss of a loved one).

The mismatch between expectation and reality is often its own problem. People hit month four and think something's wrong with them because they're still not back to baseline. So I normalize the timeline early. If you lost a job in January, you're probably not going to feel fully settled until summer. If you're rebuilding your identity after a divorce, you're looking at a year minimum before the new normal feels normal. Knowing that doesn't make it shorter, but it does make it less scary.

The fog doesn't lift all at once. It's more like you have a good week, then a rough week, then two good weeks, then a setback. The trajectory is upward but it's jagged. What I watch for is whether the good stretches are getting longer and whether the client is starting to make small plans again. When someone says "I'm thinking about signing up for that class in the fall" or "I might reach out to that contact next month," that's usually a sign the middle is ending. They're not waiting anymore. They're building.

Citations

Frequently asked questions

How do I know if I need therapy for a life transition or if I should just wait it out?

If the transition is interfering with your ability to function (work, relationships, basic self-care) or if you're stuck in the same thought loops for more than a few weeks, that's a good sign therapy would help. Waiting it out works when you're moving forward slowly; it doesn't work when you're spinning in place.

Most people wait too long to reach out because they think they should be able to handle it on their own. But transitions are some of the most common reasons people start therapy, and they're also some of the most treatable. A few sessions can give you tools and perspective that shave months off the disorienting middle phase.

What if I feel like I should be over this by now?

You're probably not over it because you're not actually supposed to be yet. The timeline you're holding yourself to is likely too short, and that gap between expectation and reality is making you feel worse than the transition itself.

In my work I see people beat themselves up at month three for not feeling normal again, when a realistic timeline for what they're going through is closer to six or nine months. Give yourself permission to still be in it. The fog lifts when it lifts, not when you decide it should.

Can a life transition trigger anxiety or depression even if I was fine before?

Absolutely. Transitions are one of the most common precipitants for a first episode of anxiety or depression, even in people with no prior history. The loss of structure, identity, and predictability creates conditions that are ripe for both.

The good news is that transition-related anxiety and depression often respond well to therapy and don't necessarily mean you'll struggle long-term. Once you rebuild structure and meaning on the other side, symptoms frequently resolve. But if you're noticing persistent low mood, sleep disruption, or intrusive worry that lasts more than a couple weeks, it's worth talking to someone sooner rather than later.

Is it normal to feel excited and terrified at the same time during a transition?

Completely normal. Most transitions, even positive ones, involve grief for what you're leaving behind alongside hope for what's coming. You can be thrilled about a new job and also mourning the loss of your old routine and coworkers. Both feelings are real and they don't cancel each other out.

I'd actually be more concerned if you felt only one emotion. Life transitions are complex, and your emotional response should reflect that complexity. The key is not letting one feeling dominate so much that you can't access the other when you need it.

Do I need to have everything figured out before the transition is over?

No, and trying to will keep you stuck longer. The middle phase is about tolerating not knowing, not about solving everything before you're allowed to move forward. You don't need a five-year plan. You just need the next small step.

I tell clients the goal is to get comfortable making decisions with incomplete information, because that's what transitions demand. You won't have all the answers until you're on the other side, and waiting for certainty before you act just extends the fog. Pick a direction, take a step, adjust as you go.