There's a strange, sacred space in healing where you exist between identities, no longer the person you were, but not yet fully the person you're becoming. For survivors of narcissistic mothers, this transition can feel particularly disorienting because so much of your original identity was built around survival, compliance and managing other people's emotions. When you begin to shed those adaptive layers, you might feel temporarily lost, wondering who you are when you're not constantly accommodating, appeasing or anticipating someone else's needs.

The old version of yourself; the people-pleaser, the hypervigilant child, the emotion-manager, served you well when you needed to survive. She kept you safe in an unsafe environment, helped you navigate your mother's unpredictable moods and found ways to get love from someone incapable of giving it freely. But as you heal, this version of yourself starts to feel too small, too restrictive, too exhausting to maintain. You begin to outgrow the very strategies that once saved you.

Yet letting go of this familiar version of yourself can feel like a kind of death, even when you know it's necessary for growth. There's grief in releasing the patterns that defined you, even when those patterns were harmful. The anxious achiever, the chronic apologiser, the invisible child; these roles might have been painful, but they were also predictable. In the unknown territory of authentic selfhood, there are no guarantees, no familiar scripts to follow.

This in-between space can feel vulnerable and uncertain because you're discovering parts of yourself that were never allowed to develop. You might find yourself wondering, "what do I actually like when I'm not trying to please someone?" "What are my real opinions when I'm not afraid of conflict?" "Who am I when I'm not managing someone else's emotional wellbeing?" These questions are exciting but also terrifying, because the answers require you to trust yourself in ways you never learnt how to do.

For many survivors, this transitional phase brings up unexpected emotions. You might feel guilty for changing, afraid that the new you won't be loveable or worried that growth means leaving people behind. You might oscillate between feeling proud of your progress and mourning the simpler (though painful) predictability of your old patterns. This emotional complexity is normal and necessary, you're literally rewiring decades of conditioning whilst building a new sense of self.

The beauty of this liminal space is that it's where true choice begins. For the first time, you get to consciously decide who you want to become rather than simply reacting to who you had to be. You can choose values that align with your authentic self rather than just survival. You can explore interests that were never safe to pursue. You can develop relationships based on mutual respect rather than fear-based compliance.

Being kind to yourself during this transformation is crucial because growth is inherently messy and non-linear. Some days you'll feel confident in your new boundaries; other days you'll slip back into old patterns. Some moments will feel like breakthrough; others will feel like breakdown. This isn't failure, it's the natural rhythm of deep change. You're literally becoming a different person and that process deserves patience, not perfection.

The new you isn't just about healing from trauma, it's about discovering the authentic self that was always there, waiting beneath the survival strategies. She's the one with preferences your mother never honoured, dreams she dismissed as unrealistic and a voice she tried to silence. This emerging self might surprise you with her strength, her creativity, her capacity for joy and her refusal to settle for less than she deserves.

Trust this transformation, even when it feels uncertain. The space between who you were and who you're becoming is not emptiness, it's pure possibility.