The Unbearable Quiet of Becoming
The hardest part of change isn’t letting go. It’s the silence that follows.
The silence is heavy.
There’s just nothing there. It stretches endlessly, swallowing the echoes of who you used to be.
You let go.
You did what you were called to do.
And now, there’s…nothing.
No voice guiding you forward. No familiar pull from behind. Just the vast open landscape where the past has collapsed and the future hasn’t arrived.
Then the deeper realization comes.
You almost feel like you’re dying.
Because in a way, you are.
The identity unravels. The old self dissolves. You’re not who you were. You’re not yet who you’ll be.
Wasn’t change supposed to feel like progress? Like crossing a river and clearly stepping into the next chapter?
But this?
This is stillness.
This is standing in the doorway not knowing whether to keep moving forward or crumble where you stand.
The weight of nothing is denser than a collapsing star.
Without the struggle, the old way, the old self—who are you now?
At least the past had a form. There were edges to it. There was something to push against.
But this?
This open space can feel absolutely unbearable.
And this is where most people turn back.
Not because they want to, but because they don’t know how to exist in this space. They grasp for the echoes of who they used to be and it slips through their fingers like sand.
They reach for anything to fill the void.
The quiet is mistaken for emptiness.
The emptiness is mistaken for being lost.
But what if this silence isn’t a void at all?
What if the space that appears to be nothing holds the potential for everything?
For the first time in your life, there’s no script. No past dictating your next move. No patterns to endlessly repeat. No obligations to live up to.
Just open land, stretching infinitely in every direction.
This isn’t the end of you.
This is just the beginning.
This is creation.
Raw. Unshaped. Full of possibility.
And yes, that kind of freedom can feel unbearable at first. It’s like floating without gravity. Nothing is decided for you.
No old wounds pulling you backward.
No old beliefs driving your choices.
No identity locking you into “That’s just the way we do it.”
Just you. In the quiet.
Finally coming to the realization that you can build anything from this place.
That’s why this part of your story is so hard. It’s not just about letting go of the past. It’s about embracing the fact that nothing is set in stone now. It’s about learning to exist without the old weight.
It’s about letting the silence be and letting go of the need to fill it.
Can you stand in it long enough to hear something new?
Can you exist in the openness without rushing to shape it into something you once knew?
Can you sit in the raw, unshaped potential of an unwritten future and have enough faith to take the first step?
And will you wait for that deep inner voice to rise like a bubble floating up from the ocean floor?
Because here’s the truth.
You’re not waiting for this future version of yourself to arrive.
You are building them.
And that kind of becoming is not loud or outspoken.
It’s not dramatic.
It’s slow.
It’s quiet.
It feels like death, but it is actually birth.
It feels like the end, but it is only the beginning.
It exists in the stillness.
One quiet breath at a time.
One moment at a time.
Until the day you look around and realize that the silence is not empty.
It’s full of everything you were meant to step into.
And it was never unbearable.
It was just waiting for you to stop fighting it.
Here’s how you can apply this to your own life:
Intention:
To stop mistaking this space for emptiness, and instead, see it as the raw material of your next chapter.
Reflection:
What if the silence isn’t here to break you, but to reveal you to yourself? What if this space, as challenging as it feels, is the foundation of everything you’re meant to build? Close your eyes and imagine the version of you who didn’t turn back—who stayed in the quiet long enough to hear something new. What did they have to release? What did they have to trust? What did they create in the space where nothing once existed?
Practice:
Write about the silence. Describe how it feels. What it brings up, what you instinctively want to do to escape it. Let it all be raw, unfiltered, and honest. Then, shift your focus: If this isn’t emptiness but possibility, what does that change? What could you build here? What do you need to stop resisting? When you’re done, read it back. Sit with it. Let it settle. Then, take a deep breath and step into the space before you—not with fear, but with the quiet understanding that this is where everything begins.
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—Evan
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The hardest part for me was not just the silence it was the emptiness, the loneliness, the fear of losing control when you thought you had your life all worked out. That paralysing fear. Now I have worked on that mostly, and feel now a sense of accomplishment. I am stronger I am definitely braver and ready to step through that door for so long that I have been to afraid to open.
Your writing is such an inspiration to me and I thank you for every word.