We spend most of our lives trying to get somewhere. Trying to become someone. And then midlife arrives, and the life we’ve built doesn’t feel quite right anymore.
For some of us, it’s a relationship that starts feeling forced, a career or business that no longer brings us joy, or children leaving home and taking the identity of motherhood with them. Maybe it’s a body that suddenly feels unfamiliar, the loss of a parent, or a long-held version of success that no longer matters.
Maybe it’s all of these things. At once.
We fall into a place where the life we knew and the person we were starts to unravel. Our sense of identity, along with the things that used to give us purpose and meaning dissolve, and there’s nothing there to fill the space.
Usually when this happens we panic and try to put our life back together again as fast as possible.
Because sitting in the space between who we were and who we’re becoming, between the life we had and the life that hasn’t arrived yet, is really freakin’ uncomfortable. It can feel like something is terribly wrong that needs fixing fast.
If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone, and this experience actually has a name. It’s called the Void.
The Void may seem dark and empty, like nothing is happening in there. But it’s actually a magical place, full of potential, that’s inviting us to transform.
The question is, will we show up for it?
Will we stay in the void long enough to be transformed?
Or will we try to escape because the discomfort feels unbearable?
Gifts from the void I didn’t ask for
When we get brave enough to stay with ourselves through the void, slowly releasing our grip on the old identities, roles, beliefs and patterns that have been running our lives for decades, the void can offer us many gifts. In fact, it has the potential to completely awaken us so we can be free from the emotional burdens we’ve been carrying our entire lives.
But it’s not easy. Sometimes these old parts of ourselves have to get really loud and really painful to get us to finally see and release them.
I was in the void for at least 3 years. It was set off by burn out from a business I had wrapped my entire identity and self worth in, while at the same time discovering I was deep in perimenopause and couldn’t have children.
For me, the void wasn’t a linear passage with a clear beginning, middle, and end. It came in waves. There were moments when I would start to find my footing again, only for another wave to rise and bring me face to face with something else that needed to be released or transformed. I stayed with myself through this passage, and within it, I experienced many awakenings.
In the void, layer by layer, the things I couldn’t carry with me into my becoming began to fall away, and in the space between, blessings I never expected began to unfold.
What falls away and the gifts that come through will look different for each of us. Bellow is what it looked like for me.
There are so many of us walking through perimenopause alone. If someone you know needs to hear this, please share it with them.
What fell away for me in the void
Emotional armor
My entire life I had unconsciously protected myself with an invisible shield. It kept me from belonging, always on the outside, looking in, longing to feel deep love and connection with others, but never being able to fully experience it.
Being the “Good Girl”
I developed a pattern early in childhood of feeling like I always had to do and say everything right. As a child I got straight A’s, was in all the advanced classes, excelled in theater, art, music and sports and never rebelled. As an adult, that turned into perfectionism and an inner critic I could never satisfy, no matter how much I tried. The feeling of never being enough followed me everywhere.
Taking responsibility for other people’s problems
Growing up with instability and chaos around me, I learned early that being responsible kept me safe. I took responsibility for everything, even situations and emotions that didn’t belong to me. As time went on, this responsibility became heavier and heavier to carry.
The belief that my worth was tied to what I produce
For most of my life, I was convinced that my worth was measured by what I produce. Whether that be a baby, a business or a certain amount of money. If I didn’t produce these things, I felt like my existence didn’t even matter.
Second guessing
Since the age of seven, I chronically second-guessed everything I said and did. While I may have looked confident on the outside, my inner world was a chaotic swirl of thoughts about whether I’d said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing, been too much or not enough.
Agony over whether or not to become a mother
I spent over a decade spinning on the decision of whether or not to have kids. I wanted to want to be a mom, but deep down, it wasn’t a full body yes. And I resisted that for a very long time. I wondered what was wrong with me or how my life could have purpose if I didn’t become a mom.
Painful patterns in my marriage
It took over a decade of marriage to realize that I had somehow attracted a person who was pressing on every single unhealed place inside me. At first I had no idea that’s what was happening. But in the void, those patterns got so loud and so undeniable that I couldn’t ignore them anymore.
Carrying my mom’s unhealed pain
From an early age, I made it my job to make my mom happy. And I carried that job well into adulthood, getting pulled into cycles of rescuing, then collapsing into guilt and feelings of failure when nothing I tried ever seemed to work.
My business
My business was everything to me: my purpose, my meaning, my sense of identity and self worth. It was also sucking the life out of me and feeding patterns that needed to change. I held on as long as I possibly could. I really didn’t want the void to take this too. But when I finally let go, that’s when some of the biggest magic began to come through.
What I received from the void
The ability to feel my feelings
I had spent my adult and teenage years stuffing my feelings and holding it all together. But in the void, something shifted and the lid I’d kept so tightly screwed on came off. Now I could feel love, connection, grief, peace, rage, frustration, awe, excitement, joy … all of it came flooding in. I started to feel the breadth of my human experience and it felt so good.
Soul-filling friendships
I created life-long friendships within the void. Friendships built on deep honesty. On being seen right inside of my mess. It felt amazing to finally be able to drop the mask of perfection and realize that I could experience love and connection by being my unfiltered, imperfect self.
The ability to hear my body’s messages
Sure, I understood the concept of listening to my body but for years I said yes when I meant no and worked when I needed rest. Now I was developing an embodied awareness that was impossible to ignore. I stopped abandoning myself and started honoring the clear needs my body communicated.
Freedom
One of the greatest gifts I received from the void was freedom. Freedom from my relentless inner critic and from the responsibilities I’d been carrying for decades that were never actually mine. What moved in to fill that space was an inner okayness that wasn’t tied to what I produced, how together I seemed, or whether I could fix what was hurting the people I loved.
A truer marriage
There were moments in the void where I thought it was going to take my marriage too. But I’m grateful that we were both willing to show up, to look at our roles in the painful dynamics we had created over the past 18 years, and to do the work, both individually and together, to create a new path forward.
Peace around not becoming a mom
The question of motherhood that had once taken up so much space no longer ruled my mind. I learned to trust that my life could still be full and meaningful without having children. And I began to feel gratitude for my freedom and for the many ways I am here to love, create and offer value beyond the role of being a mother.
Intuitive awakening
I have always had strong intuition, but years of second-guessing myself had drowned it out. In the void, that changed. I started receiving downloads in my dreams and waking life of very specific names, numbers and symbols that pointed me to answers I’d been searching for my entire life. I finally found peace around the most painful things I’d been carrying for decades.
Alchemy & Ash
Alchemy & Ash was the new form my gifts wanted to take. It came through in whispers at first, and I pushed them away because leaving my prior business that I spent 15 years building wasn’t the logical choice. But eventually, honoring what wanted to come through stopped feeling optional. Letting go to make space for this was one of the most painful things I did in the void. And once I did, everything started falling into alignment in a way that felt almost effortless.
Ability to see magic around me
I used to walk through life too busy to notice what was right in front of me. But now I was waking up. One day I’d been deep in research for the Alchemy & Ash brand, deciding between a butterfly and a dragonfly for the logo. I chose the dragonfly, closed my computer and headed out for a walk. As soon as I stepped outside, there was a dragonfly on the sidewalk in front of me. Before, I would have walked straight past it. But now I knew. The universe was telling me I was on the right path.
Supporting ourselves through the void
For me, supporting myself through the void looked like creating space and allowing for my process. Slow mornings meditating and journaling, walks in nature, road trips in my camper van, deep conversations with soul sisters, sessions with my therapist, and plant medicine journeys where I intentionally worked to unravel old patterns and create new ones.
It also looked like being in community. I don’t think I could have worked through some of the lessons I needed to learn without other people, because so many of those lessons were relational.
I still showed up for my day-to-day life and responsibilities. But I let go of forcing clarity on my next steps or striving toward goals I wasn’t even sure I wanted anymore. I stopped trying to get somewhere and just let myself be in it.
There was a lot of grief. A lot of crying. And a lot of letting go. For me, it was a three year process. For you, it might look completely different, and that’s okay.
What falls away for you, and what comes through, will be specific to your life and your becoming. There’s no template for this and there’s no doing it wrong. So I invite you to release any idea about how long this should take or what it should look like.
What I can tell you is that staying, really staying, with yourself through this passage is one of the most courageous things you’ll ever do. And the woman on the other side is worth every uncomfortable moment it takes to get there.
Invitation to share:
If you’re in the void right now, what’s the hardest part?
And if you’ve been through it, what’s one gift you received that you didn’t expect?
Hey , I’m Jessie May!
At 39, perimenopause turned my life upside down and eventually became an awakening I never saw coming. Now I guide women through the whole arc of this initiation, from sitting in the void of not knowing what’s next, to finding our voices as we emerge into who we’re becoming.
I love creating spaces where we can talk about what this time feels like with people who understand. Thanks for being here, I can’t wait to get to know you!
Ways I can help
✨ Substack Coaching - For women who want to turn the experiences they’ve lived through into a meaningful Substack publication that helps others feel less alone.
✨ Perimenopause Initiation Coaching - For women waking up to themselves through the initiation of perimenopause.
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A space for women unraveling and recreating their lives during the perimenopause years. Pivots, purpose, identity, patterns and turning our experiences into meaningful work … those are just some of the things we explore together here.
There’s something quietly confronting here, because leaving isn’t always heroic, sometimes it’s just uncomfortable and inconvenient. I’ve noticed the hardest part isn’t stepping out, but accepting who you become after. Growth changes your relationships too, not just your path..
I love your article it deeply resonated with me as we share some commonalities. I am recreating my life now and work with people who are recreating theirs. Well done and keep doing you. I’ve taught writing and you have a gift.