Letting Yourself Be Seen Before You Know Who You're Becoming
When Melissa left her long-time marketing job, she thought she'd have a clear plan for what came next. Instead, she found herself in what she called "the fog"—half-excited, half-terrified, and unsure of how to explain her situation to anyone without sounding like she'd lost her way. So she kept it to herself, waiting until she had something more polished to share.
We love transformation stories with clear before-and-after narratives. The struggling person who finds their calling and builds a thriving business. The unfulfilled employee who discovers their passion and creates a meaningful career. The woman who leaves an unhappy marriage and finds herself again. These stories inspire us because they feel neat, resolved, successful.
But what about the space in between? What about the months or years when you're no longer who you were but don't yet know who you're becoming? What happens when you're in the middle of your own transformation story with no clear ending in sight?
Most of us do what Melissa did—we hide.
Why We Stay Invisible During Transitions
There are good reasons we keep our transitions private. Being in flux can feel vulnerable, uncertain, messy. We worry that others will see us as unstable, confused, or unsuccessful. If we're questioning a career we've spent years building, will people think we're having a midlife crisis? If we're ending a relationship, will they judge our choices?
We're attached to our old identities, reluctant to release them publicly until we've secured new ones. It feels safer to wait until we can announce, "I've started my own business," rather than admit, "I'm not sure what I want to do next, but I know it's not this."
Our culture's obsession with highlight reels doesn't help. Social media favors completed transformations over messy middles. We see the finished product—the new business launch, the dream home, the confident announcement—but rarely the confusion, fear, or uncertainty that preceded it.
And then there's the well-meaning advice. The moment we share that we're in transition, people want to help by offering suggestions, connections, or opinions about what we should do next. Sometimes we're not ready for input—we just need space to figure things out.
What We Lose When We Hide
But staying invisible during transitions comes with its own costs.
When we hide our process, we lose the opportunity for genuine connection. Others can't support us if they don't know we're navigating a shift. We might miss out on conversations, resources, or connections that could be exactly what we need.
We also miss the chance to model something important for others. When we only share our transitions after they're complete, we perpetuate the myth that meaningful change happens quickly and smoothly. We rob others of seeing that uncertainty and exploration are normal, necessary parts of growth.
(This connects to what I wrote about in my post on identity grief, where I explored how the process of releasing old versions of ourselves is often invisible but profoundly important.)
Keeping our transitions private can also slow our own integration. There's something powerful about naming what's happening out loud. When we articulate our experience—even in simple terms—it can bring clarity to what felt chaotic in our minds.
Perhaps most importantly, staying hidden reinforces the belief that our process isn't legitimate until it's finished. It tells us that being in transition is somehow shameful, that we should have it all figured out before we deserve to be seen.
The Power of Letting Yourself Be Witnessed
What if allowing yourself to be seen during transition—uncertainty and all—is actually an act of courage, not weakness?
When you share that you're in a season of change, you normalize the process for others. You give them permission to acknowledge their own transitions, to admit they don't have it all figured out either. This kind of honesty creates connection in a world that often feels isolating.
Being visible during transition also opens the door for aligned support to find you. The right opportunities, conversations, and connections often come through unexpected channels. But they can't reach you if no one knows you're open to something different.
Sharing your process—even before you know the outcome—can create gentle accountability. When you tell trusted people that you're exploring new directions or questioning old patterns, you're more likely to keep moving forward instead of retreating into familiar comfort zones.
Most importantly, when you allow yourself to be seen mid-transition, you get to own your narrative. Instead of letting others make assumptions about your silence or sudden changes, you decide what story to tell and how to tell it.
Gentle Ways to Practice Being Seen
If the idea of sharing your transition feels overwhelming, start small. You don't need to post a vulnerable essay on social media or announce your uncertainty to everyone you know.
Choose your audience carefully. Begin with people you trust—friends who've shown they can hold space for complexity, family members who support your growth, colleagues who understand that careers aren't always linear. Test the waters with one or two people before widening the circle. If it helps, you can even preface the conversation with something like, "I'm not looking for advice or solutions—I'm in process and just want to share where I am."
You can share without oversharing. Be honest about where you are, but keep it to what feels safe and manageable. You might say, "I'm in a season of exploring what's next," or "I'm rethinking what matters to me," or "I'm figuring some things out." You don't owe anyone a detailed explanation.
Use "in-process" language that honors where you are without apologizing for it. Instead of "I don't know what I'm doing," try "I'm exploring new possibilities." Instead of "I'm confused," consider "I'm in a period of discernment." The shift in language can change how you feel about your own experience.
Expect vulnerability hangovers and be gentle with yourself. Sharing something real about your internal process can feel exposing afterward. This is normal. Acknowledge the courage it took to be honest and remind yourself that vulnerability is strength, not weakness.
Even if you're not ready to share with others, you can practice witnessing yourself. Regular journaling or voice memos can help you acknowledge your own process, honor your own experience, and build trust in your ability to navigate uncertainty.
(If you're struggling to recognize your own transition signals, my post on the language of transitions offers guidance on tuning into the subtle ways your body and mind communicate readiness for change.)
Redefining Strength
Several months into her transition, Melissa decided to share her experience with a close friend. "I'm in a season of figuring things out," she said, surprised by how relieved she felt to say it out loud. Her friend's response caught her off guard: "Me too. I've been feeling like something needs to shift, but I thought I was the only one."
That conversation didn't solve Melissa's uncertainty about her next steps, but it helped her feel less alone in the process. And in that connection, she found courage to keep moving forward, to trust that not knowing was temporary, not permanent.
We've been taught that strength means having it all together, knowing exactly where we're going, and presenting a polished front to the world. But maybe real strength is allowing yourself to be seen when you don't have all the answers. Maybe courage isn't just about crossing the finish line—it's about admitting you're still in the race.
Your transition doesn't need to be complete to be worthy of witness. Your uncertainty doesn't need to be resolved to deserve support. Your process doesn't need to be perfect to be valuable.
The space between who you were and who you're becoming isn't a void to hide—it's a place of possibility to inhabit with grace.
What's one small way you could let yourself be seen this week? Maybe it's sharing with a trusted friend that you're questioning something in your life. Maybe it's posting honestly about a struggle you're navigating. Maybe it's simply admitting to yourself that you're in transition and that's exactly where you need to be.
The people who matter will meet you where you are. And in allowing yourself to be seen—fog and all—you might discover that the journey itself has been worth witnessing all along.
Sometimes the most transformative journeys happen when we have someone to witness our becoming. Working with a coach who understands transitions can provide the safe space you need to explore, question, and grow without judgment. If you're ready to be fully seen and supported in your process, I'd love to explore that with you. A free Discovery Call is available to see if working together feels right.