The Bridge Between Shores

There may come a time in your life when the old shore seems to have disappeared behind you, and the new shore still remains out of sight. You stand on a bridge—suspended between past and future—and it is one of the loneliest places to be. The past was solid—even if flawed, even if it no longer fit, at least it was known. The future? Unwritten. Unclear. Some days, it feels promising. Other days, a fog-covered void.

This is the uneasy space of transition. The moment when second-guessing becomes a constant companion. Did I make the right choice? Should I have fought harder? Did I leave too soon? What if I never find my footing again? The questions circle, looking for a certainty that does not exist.

There is a temptation to turn back, to pretend the old shore was enough, that the life left behind you could still fit. But deep down, you know the truth: There is no going back. That world is gone, or perhaps you are simply no longer the person who can live there.

And so you stand, waiting for the new shore to appear, feeling exposed, stripped of the old markers of identity. Here, in the space between, self-trust is not a luxury—it is a necessity. You do not have the security of knowing exactly where you’re going, but you do have something else: The bridge itself.

The bridge is the way. It is the unfolding of each necessary step, even when you cannot see the full path. The bridge holds you, even when you doubt it. Yes, the crossing may feel endless, sometimes even circuitous. But every uncomfortable moment endured, every hard choice made, every moment of stillness where you resist the urge to run back—it all counts. It is all part of the crossing.

The time will come when the next shore reveals itself. And when it does, you will know what to do. You always have. You always will.

For now, trust the bridge. Trust yourself. Keep going.