The Hallway Wasn’t a Waiting Room After All

Two years ago, I wrote a blog post called Embracing the Hallway. At the time, I thought I was describing a temporary transition. I was selling a property, leaving a career, caring for my dad, shifting my business focus, and preparing for whatever came next.

Today, I’m sitting in a campground in my RV. Tomorrow morning, an RV technician is coming to walk me through all the systems as I get ready to hit the road and head to New Hampshire for a while. While I’m there, I may begin setting up my home base, that is if the space is available while I'm there. Or I may fly back to Florida to check on my dad, take care of a few things, and head back north for the fall foliage. Or I may decide to travel somewhere else and postpone the Florida trip to avoid another Florida summer. 

To be honest, I don’t quite know what things will look like. To be honest, the truth is, I am still in transition.

I’m still in the hallway.
But I no longer see the hallway as a place where I am stuck.
I see it as the place where I have been becoming all along.

Here is the original post:

There are so many doors. Some are wide open. Some are just barely open, casting slivers of light where I stand. Others are closed. Some are locked forever; keys thrown away in moments of intentional choice. A few doors remain unlocked, inviting further exploration should I choose to venture through—perhaps for the first time or perhaps to visit a piece of the past yet to be resolved.

This hallway isn't just a passage between the rooms of my life. The hallway is a space of reflection and transformation. As I prepare to sell my beloved property, retire from a rewarding career in education and healthcare, and venture towards new creative horizons, I find myself here in this hallway of transition.

The Hallway of Life’s Big Changes
Selling the property that once buzzed with the energy of retreat attendees, AirBNB guests and home to traveling health professionals, is much more than a financial decision. It's a symbolic release of a past era and the embrace of a new sort of freedom. Each room holds memories of love, laughter, learning, growing, connection, and sometimes cleansing tears, much like the chapters of the books I've written and read over the years. Letting go is bittersweet, yet necessary to support my next steps towards physical, financial, emotional, and spiritual freedom.

Caring for my aging father has added a poignant door in my hallway. It's one of those doors that swung open unexpectedly and I ran straight into the room of caregiving. Though has certainly been a challenging room at times, it has enriched my life with invaluable moments, a whole new relationship with my dad, and a new perspective on aging and the cycle of life.

Retirement from my career is another significant door. I spent over four decades as a health care practitioner, teacher, trainer and coach. I have had an impact on the lives of many of my patients and my students. Closing this door was not about ending a journey but about completing a fulfilling chapter that empowers me to take what I’ve learned and apply it in a new direction. I've entered a new room with more time to expand my coaching and training work, as well as my writing. Writing has always been a passion, and now, with more time, I can devote myself fully to it.

Finishing up lingering projects feels like tidying up this hallway, preparing for a cleaner, more organized stride into the future.

The Window of Possibilities
As daunting as the hallway can seem, there's a window here too. It frames the changing skies, sometimes bright and sometimes stormy, reminding me that life often varies between clarity and challenge. The fresh air it lets in feels a lot like the new ideas and aspirations that fill my mind and feed my soul when I pause long enough to see what's there. 

The Doors Yet to Open
And what of the doors that are unlocked, but still closed and those that are slightly ajar? These represent the untapped potential, the dreams I've yet to dream, and the experiences waiting to be had. One or two of the doors remind me that I still have pieces of my past left to address. As I consider my next steps,  I see these doors as opportunities for new adventure or a deeper level of growth, providing insight into a new aspect of myself, life, love, and of those who share some steps on my journey.

Creating Space in the Hallway
In this transition, I've learned the importance of intentional action. It's not enough to passively move from one door to the next. One must pause in the hallway, understand the nature of this transitional space, place memories on its walls, and decorate it with thoughts of hope. This active engagement makes the hallway not just a route, but a place of peace and transformation.

Lessons from the Hallway
This hallway teaches resilience. It shows us that transitions are not to be feared as voids of uncertainty but embraced as avenues of growth and enlightenment. The doors we open, close, and sometimes lock are all part of how we manage our journey through life. The hallway is our access to each of them while also serving as the way towards what comes next.

The key is to appreciate this in-between space, to understand that while some doors close and others open, all are an invitation to explore a bit deeper. But it is in the hallway, that we integrate all we've learned. It's where we meet our truest, most reflective selves.
​
Moving Forward with Awareness and Hope
As I prepare to explore new doors, I carry with me the lessons from each door I've passed through and each door that has been locked. The hallway, with its doors and its windows is no longer just a transition place. It's a vital part of my journey, rich with potential and promise. In embracing my hallway, I find not just a path to new rooms but a deeper understanding of where I’ve been and where I’m headed.

It is here, in this space of passage, that I find the courage to continue moving forward ...
One door at a time.
One day at a time.
One moment at a time.
​One breath at a time.

Reading this now, two years later, I am struck by how much I understood before I fully lived it.
I thought the hallway was a temporary passageway. A place I would move through on my way to the next room. Now I wonder if the hallway has been the place where the real work was happening.


The place where I learned to let go.
The place where I learned to stay present without disappearing.
The place where I learned that freedom is not always a sudden leap through a new door. Sometimes it is a slow remembering of who we are becoming, one breath and one choice at a time.


Maybe that is enough for today.


One door at a time.
One day at a time.
One RV system at a time.
One moment at a time.
One breath at a time. 


And maybe the best plan, at least for now, is to be present in each moment spent in the hallway, while allowing the next door to open in its own time.


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