The Sacred In-Between: When Joy and Grief Sit at the Same Table

I don’t think people talk about this enough. . .

This moment where everything you’ve prayed for starts to manifest…

And somehow, in the same breath, all you want to do is sit in the dark and cry.

It’s a moment I’m living in right now.

One of the most powerful, beautiful, aligned chapters of my life.

I’m building my dream.

I’m witnessing things I wrote down in journals five years ago show up with realness and reverence.

I’m stepping into rooms I once begged to be seen in.

And I’m doing it all while becoming a mother’s mother, launching new visions, and honoring my healing.

But underneath all the light?

There’s a heaviness. A shadow.

A quiet sadness that I can’t always explain.

It’s not depression. It’s not even loneliness.

It’s more like my soul is exhaling. Finally releasing years of holding it together.

And in that release, I want to cry.

I want to sob in a dark room, uninterrupted, just me and my truth.

I want to be held, but I don’t want anyone around.

I want silence, I but my mind is loud.

I want to celebrate, but my emotions are tired.

It’s the sacred in-between.

The space where joy and grief sit at the same table.

Where peace and pain walk hand in hand.

And where clarity doesn’t come without confusion.

I think it’s what happens when you’ve been the strong one for too long.

When you’ve kept going and giving and pushing, and now…

Now, you’re finally safe enough to feel it all.

And so I’m learning not to judge it.

Not to rush through it.

But to sit in it.

To allow both truths to exist.

Because maybe this is healing.

Not the cute version. Not the one that looks good on Instagram.

But the real, gritty, human kind.

Where you show up in your greatness while still honoring the grief that got you there.

So if you’re in this space too

The one where you’re smiling while secretly crying,

Expanding while simultaneously unraveling

Know that you’re not alone.

You’re not broken.

You’re becoming.

And it’s okay if it’s messy.

Even the most beautiful blooms had to push through the dirt to rise.