The Other Side of the Threshold: What Nobody Talks About After You Cross It

I took a leap last week and then felt strangely, unexpectedly awful. Here’s what I learned.

People talk a lot about thresholds — what it takes to reach them, what it takes to cross them. The courage required. The fear to move through. The moment everything changes.

I’ve talked about thresholds too. I probably will again.

But something happened after I launched Love Letter Creative last week that I haven’t seen talked about very much, and I think it needs to be said.

Because if you’ve ever done something big — really big, the kind of thing you’ve been building toward for a long time — and found yourself feeling strangely worse on the other side, I want you to know: that’s not a sign something went wrong. That might be exactly what expansion feels like.

The Launch

Launching Love Letter Creative was one of the most momentous occasions of my life.

Not because of the website or the offerings or the emails going out into the world — though all of that mattered. But because of what it represented. How far I’ve come. How much love I now hold for myself. How much trust I carry in what I’m capable of.

I expected to feel the continuation of that on the other side. The joy. The energy. The relief of finally sharing something so deeply mine with the world.

Instead, the last couple of days I’ve felt off balance. Uncomfortable. Vaguely unnerved.

I wasn’t expecting that.

What’s Actually Happening

I’ve been sitting with these feelings rather than running from them. Trying to understand what they’re communicating. Working — consciously, intentionally — not to numb out or reach for old patterns.

And what I’ve come to understand is this: this is what expansion feels like from the inside.

I’ve never launched a business the way I launched Love Letter Creative. I’ve never shared this much of myself with the world. I’ve never believed in myself enough to trust the flow of my own life quite like this.

I’m in a moment in time I’ve never experienced before.

My system is coming down off of the emotional high of the launch — a literal jumping off a cliff. And now I’m falling through the sky, not yet knowing when my wings are going to open. Moving forward on nothing but faith in myself.

It’s uncomfortable. It’s a little bit scary. There’s a small voice asking holy shit, what was I thinking?

And I’m learning to love that voice, too.

The Part Nobody Talks About

In the process of trying to understand what it takes to do things that scare us, we’ve begun to romanticize the threshold.

We talk about the courage it takes to leap. The transformation waiting on the other side. The beautiful, hard work of becoming.

What we don’t talk about as much is the in-between — the space after the leap and before the landing. The place where you’re no longer on solid ground and not yet flying. Where the high has faded and the new normal hasn’t settled in yet.

I used to think the threshold was the scariest part.

But falling through the sky after feeling so deeply connected to what I was building? That’s a different kind of scary. It’s the kind of scary that asks you to hold on to yourself when there’s nothing external to hold onto.

And that’s exactly the invitation.

What I’m Choosing Instead

When the discomfort showed up, I had a choice. Reach for the old patterns or hold on to what I know to be true:

That Love Letter Creative is what I’m meant to be doing.
That everything always works out in my favor.
That I love myself and am strong enough to handle anything.
That I trust myself to build the life I imagine.

Not the old patterns. Not the cycles that were never mine to begin with. Not the parts of me that learned to shrink and called it safety.

So I chose to take small steps each day to reaffirm the direction I’m moving in — even through what felt like an almost depressed fog.

I went on Pinterest and found t-shirt designs that inspired me for the shop I’m building. I listened to a Pura Rasa manifestation affirmation video while I slept. I pulled cards from my tarot and oracle decks. I held one of my favorite crystals. I went for a walk and focused on hearing the birds sing and the butterflies fluttering. I made the last of my diamond painting galaxy coasters.

Small things. Creative things. Things that kept me in the flow of creation no matter how small.

This used to be a pattern I gave up easily when emotions overwhelmed me — I’d let myself drown in them until weeks or months had gone by.

This time was different. I was able to be a partner to those emotions rather than adding to them. I held space and love for those parts of me. I didn’t shame myself into action or push through with force. I chose it because I genuinely wanted to — because these things felt good and supportive and true.

Are You in a Similar Place?

If you’re in your own free-fall right now — after a launch, a leap, a decision, a change — I want to say something directly to you:

The discomfort you feel is not a sign that you made a mistake.

It’s a sign that you did something real. Something that mattered enough to move you. Something your whole system is now reorganizing around.

The new chapter requires a new version of you, and that reorganization takes time. It’s allowed to be uncomfortable. It’s allowed to feel like too much. It’s allowed to be messy and unclear and a little bit terrifying.

You’re not doing it wrong.

You’re doing it for real.

How I’m Moving Through It

I’m not waiting for the discomfort to pass before I show up. I’m throwing my hands in the air and screaming WEEEEEEE as I figure it out.

Because that’s the only way through — not around, not back, not waiting until everything feels settled and certain. But through, with full presence, with trust in yourself, with the willingness to feel it all.

There’s no abandoning yourself just because it’s uncomfortable. That’s the whole point of the leap.

I’m very much looking forward to flying.

And if you’re in the fall right now — I hope you’ll join me.