In the Dark Room: The Liminal Space of Transitions

Remember the old days when capturing a moment wasn’t as instant as a tap on a screen? When film had to be carefully developed by a professional, working behind the scenes in a dark room to bring images to life. In that dim space, the final picture wasn’t immediately clear. The film bathed in solution, slowly transforming from blankness to form, from shadow to light. As the images hung to dry, they emerged—layer by layer—until they became fully realized.

The dark room was where the magic of transformation happened. A space between what was and what would be. No longer just film, but not yet a complete picture. A liminal space. A place of waiting, uncertainty, and becoming.

Lately, I’ve been in my own dark room.

No longer tethered to my corporate identity, yet still shaping version 2.0 (or maybe 3.0?) of all the different flavors of Jenniferia—a nickname the kids I nannied in college gave me. And I’ll be honest: it hasn’t been comfortable. But my mentors remind me—this is part of the process.

Last weekend, I returned to California, seeking a much-needed pause from daily life and a moment to reflect on how far I’ve come. I visited Seal Beach, the town where I spent the final year of my 11 years in California—the place where I pieced myself back together as my 10-year marriage came to an end.

Bringing my book with me to that sacred place was surreal. So much has changed, and yet, so much remains intact—a sanctuary for my soul. The apartment I once called home is now painted a different color, but the healing energy of the town still lingers, as vibrant as ever.

Seeing old coworkers and friends reminded me of the incredible support I’ve had through different seasons of life. And it also made one thing very clear: I am not the same person I was 15 years ago.

Some people in my world know me as the corporate audit partner. Others see the emerging entrepreneur, author, and speaker. Some know me as a dancer. A mom. A coach. And while I’m still embracing what this next chapter looks like, the in-between has, at times, felt like an identity crisis.

But here’s what I do know:

Even if the image of my future self is still developing, it’s okay to sit in the dark room and let the vision unfold. I don’t have to rush the process (even though patience isn’t my strong suit—just ask my editor). And I don’t even have to know exactly what the final picture will be.

It will emerge. In its own time. And when it does, I know it will be worth the wait.

What areas of your life are you still developing?

Share in the comments!

For the world needs who we were made to be.