Unfinished Conversations

By Sonia Rebecca Menezes

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I’ve chosen to write this more-personal-than-usual essay like a textbook chapter. Why?

Because I’m the boss and I’m a baddie 💥 Pls note, since it’s written like a textbook chapter, if you find one section boring, you can skip to the next one without losing context.

Ready? Okay, let’s go.

I. The definition of liminal spaces

This is an ambiguous concept with many definitions and applications. For the purpose of my chapter, it will be defined like this:

Liminal spaces are places of transition. Between Points A and B, two different conditions, states of mind, or life stages. Liminal spaces can exist as actual physical places, and they can exist in our minds. Liminal spaces are like the waiting rooms of life, where time seems to stand still. These spaces are characterized by ambiguity, disorientation, and a sense of uncertainty.

Liminal spaces can be found in many different contexts, including physical spaces such as doorways, bridges, and airports, as well as transformations we experience as we go through new life stages, like pregnancy, an engagement, retirement, a job transition, or moving.

Liminal spaces are full of possibility, potential, and renewal as we await what is to come. But we never want to be in one longer than necessary; it can feel uncomfortable and disorienting because we don’t know what comes next.

Summary

1. It is an in-between space
2. It can be a literal space between two other spaces
3. It can also be an abstract space between two states of mind
4. It is a space full of contradictory emotions

II. Common physical liminal spaces

Airports

Everyone is in transit. It’s a bridge between two places. Time isn’t exactly a concept anymore. People drink beer at 7 am. People are asleep anytime, anywhere. Many different languages. Lowkey stressful all the time. Lots of moving parts. Go, go, go. Everyone is going all the time.

Elevators

Everyone is in transit. Time stands still. People suspend people-ing till they get to where they’re supposed to go. Nobody wants to stay in one longer than needed.

Hallways

Ever had an elevator that opened into a hallway in a hotel? As soon as you step out, you’re excited. Oooooo can’t wait to get to my room. But then the passage goes on for longer, and you see a LOT of hallway stretched out ahead of you, doors and doors on either side, and you go from excitement to ‘Am I gonna die here?’ That’s the weirdness of liminal spaces.

III. Common mental or non-physical liminal spaces

An engagement

It involves waiting, preparation, and anticipation. It isn’t meant to be permanent – it’s a bridge from one stage to the next.

Job transitions

It’s bittersweet. You’re sad to go, but you’re happy about what’s to come. There’s a tinge of anticipation and uncertainty. You won’t remember much of it later.

Adolescence

It’s messy and uncomfortable. It’s in between. It’s a transition. It’s inevitable. It involves a physical and emotional upheaval. It’s a time of growth and transformation.

Pregnancy

It’s messy and uncomfortable. It’s in between womanhood and motherhood. It involves a physical and emotional upheaval. It’s a time of growth and transformation. It’s transient.

Journeys

(See ‘Airports’) They’re in between where you are and where you want to be. They’re filled with anticipation for what’s to come. They can cause some anxiety. They’re generally focused on getting to the destination as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Summary

1. Liminal spaces involve transition
2. They’re not permanent
3. They can be bittersweet
4. They can change you for the better

IV. Sonia’s most *liminally liminal* spaces

Here’s a quick walk through some liminal spaces that changed my life. This is a non-exhaustive list that includes only the liminal spaces I feel comfortable sharing with the gen-pop.

Ages 9-12

My family and I traveled for roughly three years. I homeschooled through grades five, six, and seven. I basically went through the liminal phase of adolescence while in a liminal stage of transit. Homeschooling, lots of travel; none of it was mainstream or idealized by the masses back then. When I rejoined regular school circa 2006, nobody in my class had heard of homeschooling.

During those three years, we lived in or visited: Nashville, Dubai, Manila, Mumbai, Thailand, The UK, Los Angeles, Atlanta, and Florida, and we also scooted around the entire East Coast of the US. We lived out of many suitcases, went on tons of road trips, and spent no more than 5-7 months in a single place.

I got to see and experience many things that people would only read about in books. And together, my family and I explored places that I probably never will again. At age 9, I was aware of the impact of this, and I wrote a cringe diary entry called ‘Living the Dream.’ The skills I picked up during these three years of homeschooling, mainly the love for independent learning, have helped me become the clever little cookie that I am today.

But I was in a tussle with myself. I relished the fact that I lived this interesting, exciting life that involved so much adventure. But I also deeply longed to settle down, to fully unpack, to plant myself, and grow some roots. This was an age before social media, and while all the moving helped me make tons of friends, I also didn’t have the means to keep them around.

Only later did I come to realize that most people don’t have their friends from ages 9-12 around as regular fixtures of their lives – at least, that’s what I tell myself. Would I do it all over again? In a heartbeat. But I’m sure only my parents remember the many meltdowns I had over constantly being on the move.

The first 9 months of marriage

No, I wasn’t pregnant. Fun fact, pregnancy is actually 10 months. Or 40 weeks. We really ought to stop measuring pregnancies in months and stick to weeks because some months have 4 weeks and some have 5, and an entire pregnancy is more than 9 months so it doesn’t make any sense –

I got married in 2020, two months before the world was rocked by a global pandemic. I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to move out of my parent’s home and into my own space with my husband. So my parents housed my husband and I for nine straight months of lockdown.

My bedroom became a liminal space, holding unboxed wine glasses and other wedding presents, waiting to be used in our new married life. Eventually, my mum and I put them into storage for the sake of my mental health because I couldn’t bear the sight of them and what they represented. The liminality.

The world was experiencing what I hope will be the only global liminal phase of my lifetime, where time stood still for everyone and everything – but it was standing still in a different way for me because I was on the cusp of a different life as a married woman. Yet I couldn’t fully step into it while our lives were in flux.

It was an incredibly humbling experience to realize that even in seasons when you think you’re ready for your independent adult era, you might need to depend on your family more than ever before. I think it set a good precedent for both of us to know that you can never be too independent. You need your people (whether that’s family, friends, or whoever your people might be.)

Being pregnant

Wondering if I should move my 40-week pregnancy jibber-jabber to this section. I’ll speak to my editors about that.

As far as liminal life phases go, I had a glorious pregnancy. But did that stop me from unleashing havoc in my mind? You’d best believe it did NOT because Mama hates uncertainty and transition.

I counted down the days and weeks, sometimes staring at my pregnancy app thingy till it reached midnight so I could know I was another day closer to my due date. The uncertainty of it all, the not-knowing how it would play out, the mystery of who I was supposed to be as a mother, the unfamiliarity of my body that I was just supposed to roll with – all of it was the cause of an unusual amount of tension.

I spent countless hours reading, learning how to ‘pregnant’ better. Preparing for all the things that could possibly come next. But really, all I was doing was trying to race to solid ground. There isn’t an aspect of pregnancy and birth that I haven’t dug through. While most people find postpartum challenging, to me, that’s been the easier part. Why? Because postpartum was the destination I was preparing for. Now that my feet were planted, I could finally move forward, even if it was through difficult and rough terrain.

Being 29

Sometimes I feel like most of being 29 is simply coming to terms with the reality that you’ll soon be 30. Like you’re micro-dosing adulthood or something. It’s like gently holding your breath for a whole year. Sometimes you’re dizzy with excitement; most times, you’re dizzy because you stood up too quickly.

I haven’t enjoyed being 29 all that much. Unlike the period of lockdown, where nearly everyone I knew had some key aspects of life in common, 29 feels like a different reality for every single person I know.

I spent my morning breastfeeding and changing diapers, someone else spends it hungover, someone else spends it at the airport getting ready to catch a plane to go on a scuba trip, someone else spends it looking for a new job, someone else spends it planning their wedding, someone else spends it getting their child ready for school, someone else spends it sleeping in, someone else is headed to work, someone else turns on their laptop for a call, and someone else cares for a sick parent.

It’s such a weird age. Maybe by 39, all those someones will be doing the same or similar things. But right now, it’s a liminal space with people in-transit, headed down very different paths. We all have nothing in common with each other except that we’re all entering a new decade, equally bewildered by each others’ reality.

Summary

1. Sonia finds change very uncomfortable
2. Sonia has nice new wine glasses
3. A human pregnancy is 40 weeks long
4. Sonia finds change very uncomfortable

V. Why liminal spaces aren’t bad

1. They’re a part of life.

While liminal spaces can be unsettling and disorienting, they also offer a peculiar charm, a reminder that life is a grand adventure through the unknown. They are the bridges that connect our yesterdays to our tomorrows. They’re the doorways that usher us through the fog of uncertainty. They’re the catalysts that catapult us into the great unknown.

2. They’re a chance for connection.

Liminal spaces are a reminder that, as we tiptoe along the tightrope between the familiar and the unknown, we are never truly alone. Everyone has been through their own liminal-iest of spaces, and it’s perhaps one of the few common facets of being human. They can be a chance to connect with each other in a place that’s otherwise lonely, like how you long to make a friend on a flight. The charming serendipity of it makes the connection sweeter. 

3. They’re a gateway to growth.

If you’re a creative person, every accomplishment begins with some liminality – the blank canvas, the blinking cursor on an empty page, the silent piano keys – all whispering, “What if you never finish?” The artist’s goal is to simply emerge on the other side. A triumphant conqueror of the in-between.

If you’re a parent, as I am now, children are unwitting catalysts for many of life’s liminal periods. They drag us kicking and screaming through the uncertain doorways of life. And as we watch our children grow and change, we too are transformed. Not like a beautiful butterfly, no, it’s more like a game of human Tetris. Parents constantly rearrange themselves to fit into the puzzle of life.

If you’re in between jobs, you may feel the slippery liminality taking over. Our jobs have a way of tethering us to routine and reality, and the lack of one can plunge us into a whirlpool of liminal uncertainty. But in this mental disarray, there’s also the opportunity to rebuild, forge new paths, and uncover hidden passions, like a treasure hunter navigating a labyrinth of possibilities.

If you’re moving to a new city or home, as you pack up your stuff, you’re reminded of the impermanence of your existence. I think it’s something about seeing your whole life in a messy pile of bags and boxes ready to be whisked away. But as you unpack, the thought that you can be a new person in a new place and live a whole new life serves as a reminder that we are forever evolving.

Summary

1. Liminal spaces, like any uncomfortable things in life, can lead to something good
2. If you see someone hot at an airport, say hi to them
3. Most of life’s greatest moments are cloaked in uncertainty
4. Hire packers and movers if you don’t want to see your life in boxes

VI. The final section: How I cope with liminality

1. I cope with liminality by embracing whimsy.

If you’ve ever seen me act silly, out of character, or just plain unusual, it’s possible that I’m going through some liminality. I’ve realized that fun can be a great antidote to fear of the future. If you can inject a little whimsy into your moments of uncertainty, they don’t seem so scary anymore.

That’s the reason I chose to document a lot of my pregnancy through pictures. It’s why I agreed to sign up for an underwear modeling campaign with a baby bump. It’s why I decided to share and overshare and let people into my life. It’s why I chose to do silly hip-hop dance workouts. Why? For fun. I knew that if I didn’t whimsically skip and hop along the journey, my feet would be stuck in the mire. So, find ways to be whimsical and fun in case you’re feeling scared of the ambiguous future.

2. I cope with liminality by living super friggin hard.

By this, I mean I throw myself into life at the moment. I do the opposite of coasting. I live super intentionally. For me, that means documenting my life, paying attention to things around me, and strengthening my relationships. It’s a time to double down on building a foundation for what comes next. I like to have keepsakes from times of liminality, like collectibles. The reason for this is because these transitory phases of life can often seem like a blur, and we rarely remember them later. I hate feeling like I’ve lost out on my own life.

During my years of travel, I kept museum passes, concert tickets, coins, goodbye notes, photographs, and of course, many diaries. Because many years later, I knew I’d remember so little of it.

3. I cope with liminality by standing on a firm foundation.

As human beings, we often find ourselves seeking clarity and assurance in a world that is inherently unpredictable. It’s natural for us to crave stability and to search for answers that provide a sense of control over our lives.

I’ve accepted that the only unshakable foundation on which I can stand is my faith in God. My favorite author, CS Lewis, explains it: “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” It’s a guiding light that shapes my understanding and interpretation of reality.

When the inevitable liminalities of life come at me, I know that I never go through them alone or without purpose, and that’s enough for me to carry on.

Summary

1. Thank you for reading this
2. You are loved
3. Uncertainty won’t get the best of you
4. Keep on keeping on.