Between Goodbye and Hello

Last night, as I sat with the reality of my upcoming move, I started thinking about something deeper than just packing up and changing addresses. I wondered if our soul makes agreements, not just with people, but with places.

I’ve always admired people who live in the same house, town, or city their entire lives. There’s something grounding about that: roots that stay. I was lucky enough to grow up in the same home throughout my childhood, and that kind of stability shaped me. But my adult life has looked very different. It’s been more transient. I’ve never stayed in one place for more than seven or eight years. I may have stayed in certain cities or towns a bit longer, but each move has brought its own kind of shift. My first was with a roommate, learning how to navigate independence while still sharing space. As life changed, so did my living situations, from moving in with my husband to making decisions that were best for our daughter. After 9/11, when I was working in the city, we moved out of state. And for many years, every move centered around giving her roots and a sense of home, especially after my divorce.

When she left for college and I became an empty nester, I made a move for myself during her junior year. It was the first time in a long time that I had done something just for me, and I’ll admit, I had some resistance to more change. That’s when I came to Charleston, four years ago, for a job opportunity. It was right after the COVID pandemic, and it felt like a pivotal moment: take this position I was genuinely excited about, and truly manifested, or move back to New Jersey and in with my mom. It was also the first time I truly lived alone. A different kind of quiet. A different kind of awareness. And it was definitely not easy.

And now, I’m getting ready to move again. But this one feels different. It’s not just a new place, it’s a new exploration and chapter. One I’m sharing with Patrick, my partner, whose love and steadiness have helped me begin to trust in a kind of relationship I never thought I’d experience. After years of doing the work on myself, of being in unhealthy or unbalanced love, or in relationships that just didn’t fit, this move feels equal parts exciting and unfamiliar. Letting someone in this closely, building something together, it’s beautiful, but it’s also stretching me in ways I didn’t expect.

Every place I’ve lived has held something different. Some homes gave me space to rest and heal, like I believe Charleston did for me. Others brought old patterns to the surface that needed clearing. A few cracked me open, and others felt like soft places to land. Looking back, I can see how each move was like picking up a puzzle piece to something greater my soul has been unfolding, one lesson, one season, one sacred step at a time.

And now, here I am. In the in-between.

Between a goodbye and a not-quite hello. Between the home I’ve outgrown and the one I haven’t fully settled into yet. There are boxes, yes…but also emotions that don’t pack up as neatly. I woke up this morning in a place that feels more like an echo than a landing place. It’s where grief and gratitude sit side by side. Where the version of me who’s leaving meets the one who’s just starting to arrive. I don’t feel fully at home in either place right now, and that’s okay. Maybe this is what becoming looks like, just like my guides have reminded me in the past. A little unsteady. A little unsure. But deeply guided.

If you’ve ever found yourself here, too, I just want to say, you’re not alone.

This part of the journey—the in-between, can feel uncomfortable, but it’s often where the deeper shifts happen. It’s where our soul gets louder, where our spirit team draws close, and where change starts quietly taking root beneath the surface. Because home isn’t just where we live. It’s a feeling. A vibration. And sometimes, our soul needs a new space to match the version of us that’s just beginning to unfold.

Copyright 2025 Angelique Declercq. All rights reserved.