We often think of breakdowns as endings — the unraveling of everything we thought we knew. But what if breakdowns are not failures at all? What if they are the very doorway to breakthroughs?

Across traditions and disciplines, this experience has many names. Mystics like St. John of the Cross, the 16th‑century Spanish poet and monk, called it the dark night of the soul — a painful but necessary purification that strips away illusions so the soul can unite more deeply with the divine. Contemporary voices like Richard Rohr, a Franciscan friar and author, describe it as liminal space — the threshold between what was and what will be. Rohr reminds us that all transformation takes place in liminal space, the sacred “in‑between” where certainty dissolves and newness begins.

Psychologists might frame it as an identity shift or existential crisis. In everyday language, it can feel like a life reset, an emotional detox, or a season of shedding. No matter the name, the essence is the same: a period of constriction, sadness, or isolation that precedes clarity and expansion.

Like a caterpillar dissolving into mush inside the chrysalis, everything familiar breaks down. Yet within that formlessness, imaginal cells quietly begin to build the butterfly. What looks like destruction is actually preparation for flight.

Breakdowns are not the end. They are the sacred in‑between — the messy, uncomfortable, fertile ground where transformation begins. What feels like loss is actually preparation for clarity, freedom, and expansion.

 My Journey Through Transformation

I began the process of healing and transformation at a time when everything felt uncertain. Fear was the strongest tether — it kept pulling me back toward old patterns, whispering that the familiar was safer than the unknown. But I learned that pushing through that fear, and stepping into the uncertainty of what would be, was the true beginning of transformation.

The middle was messy, hard, and at times daunting. Yet it was also where the most profound discoveries happened. In that space, I found my creative voice, my confidence, and my bravery. I realized that being empathetic was not a flaw, but my greatest gift. I also found my athlete again — the part of me that loves to train, to challenge myself, to push limits and grow stronger.

At the time, I didn’t understand why everything was falling apart. It felt like chaos, like being lost at sea without a lighthouse. But on the other side, I see it very clearly: I was being formed, like the butterfly in its chrysalis. What looked like destruction was actually transformation. And in that realization, I discovered that I could trust life again.

I don’t regret who I have loved in my life, but I learned to use discernment — to recognize which people drained my light or passion for life, and which relationships nurtured it. In that messy middle, I also found my spark. I was no longer searching for a lighthouse. I became my own lighthouse.

On the other side of the breakdown, I discovered peace, contentment, authenticity, and a truer version of myself. That is the gift of the breakthrough: not returning to who you were, but stepping fully into who you are meant to be.

 Signs You May Be in This Passage

• Loss of interest in old patterns

• Heightened sensitivity to truth or intuition

• Emotional waves of sadness or grief

• Feeling lost or disoriented

• Longing for deeper meaning

• Glimpses of peace or clarity

 How to Move Through It

• Surrender to the process: Trust that the discomfort is clearing space for expansion.

• Practice presence: Meditation, breathwork, or mindful walks help soften the intensity.

• Journal your journey: Writing reveals patterns and insights.

• Seek supportive community: Share with trusted friends or mentors.

• Nourish your body and spirit: Rest, movement, and healthy food create stability.

• Honor solitude: Isolation is a cocoon, not a punishment.

• Celebrate small awakenings: Notice moments of clarity — they are wings beginning to form.

 Finding Clarity in the Liminal Space

Clarity emerges slowly, like dawn after night. It comes through surrender, reflection, release, and patience. The dark night is not permanent — it is a passage, not a prison. You don’t return to who you were; you step into who you’re becoming.

The liminal space — that threshold between endings and beginnings — is sacred. It may feel uncertain, empty, or even frightening, but it is also fertile ground. Just as the caterpillar’s mush becomes a butterfly, your own dissolution becomes the soil for renewal.

 Closing Thought

Breakdowns are not what they seem. They are not failures, punishments, or endings. They are the chrysalis of transformation, the liminal space where clarity is born, and the doorway to expansion. What feels like loss is actually preparation for flight.