A Letter from The Ideal Self to The Me in Limbo

Today I thought for a long time about what I should write. And then, bingo! A letter could suffice. Why a letter, though? Because it often sounds absurd to write one for yourself, until it is not. And this is true when we remember that there are different versions of ourselves in one person.

 In this letter today, the ideal version of me (which could be you as well) writes to the version of me in limbo, reminding myself of the reverence for time and the ubiquitous seasons in life’s journey.

You, yes you. I see you. Not the version of you that performs competence for the world, nor the one that smiles and says, “I’m fine,” Nay. Rather, you who wakes up with a quiet ache in the chest, wondering how you can feel so full of ambition and so stalled at the same time.

I know the weight you’re carrying because I carried it once. Actually, not once but a little bit too many times, but look at me now, the you, just further down the road that you’re afraid you’re not walking.

You feel split in two: one part longing for more, another disenchanted by how little seems to change. You desire momentum, but your feet feel glued to the floor. Some days, you burn with the certainty that you were made for something great. Something magnificent. Other days, it feels like the universe has pressed pause on your life while everyone else keeps moving.

Let me tell you something plainly: this limbo state is not a failure. It is a transition state, even if it doesn’t feel like it or look productive yet. Or even if it doesn’t look like one at the moment.

You mistake motionlessness for stagnation, as many people do, but inside you, tectonic plates are shifting. Your confusion is not emptiness. It’s an overcrowded cosmos. Too many possible futures, too many expectations, too many voices (your own included) arguing about what the “right” next move should be. Then you opt to wait. Not because you are weak, but because you are listening too hard for certainty in a world that doesn’t offer it.

Here’s the truth I need you to hear. Clarity does not arrive before movement. Instead, it arrives because of movement. You keep telling yourself that once you feel ready, confident, and aligned, then you’ll act. But readiness is not a state; it’s a prerequisite. Every version of me that you admire was built while feeling unready, unsure, and quietly afraid, but not cowed.

A Letter of Strength from the Strong Future Self

I know you feel betrayed by time. Nonetheless, Leo Tolstoy reminds us that the two most powerful warriors are patience and time”. I know you measure yourself against imagined timelines and wonder where you went wrong. But growth is not linear, and progress does not announce itself with fireworks. Sometimes progress looks like endurance. Sometimes it looks like not giving up on yourself, even when nothing externally validates your effort.

The fact that your spirit still fights, still wants more, still imagines bolder versions of your life is proof enough that you are not done. People who are truly stuck stop imagining entirely. So, stay in there and keep fighting.

One comforting fact is that you don’t need a dramatic reinvention right now. You need honesty. Ask yourself what you are avoiding, not what you are dreaming about. Often, limbo is created by resistance, not lack of opportunity. There is likely one small, uncomfortable action you know you should take right now.

It could be the email, the application, the conversation, or the daily discipline that you keep postponing because you believe it won’t instantly fix everything. But nothing ever does. Lives are changed by accumulation, not bombshells.

Stop waiting for permission from the universe, from circumstances, or from other people. The truth is, no one is coming to tap you on the shoulder and declare that it’s finally your turn. It has always been your turn. The only difference between you and me is not talent or luck, but rather that I stopped negotiating with fear. I learned that fear doesn’t disappear when you confront it; it just loses its authority.

You think bold moves require bold confidence? They don’t. They require commitment. Confidence is volatile; commitment is steadier. Decide who you are willing to become, even on days when motivation is absent.

Decide what kind of life you refuse to settle for out of exhaustion. Then act in alignment with that decision, imperfectly but consistently. Better be crawling than stagnating.

Of course, there will be days you move forward and feel nothing. Days when there is no rush, no validation, no immediate reward. Do not interpret that as meaninglessness. Some seeds grow underground for a long time before breaking the surface (check out the Chinese bamboo). Your job is not to dig them up daily to check if they’re working. Your job is to keep planting.

And remember always that the universe is not conspiring against you. It is indifferent to your self-doubt, your overthinking, and your hesitation. Meaning is not something handed to you; it’s something you generate through participation. It is something you seek through action. The moment you engage, create, attempt, risk, fail, and try again, you step out of limbo and into authorship of your story.

From this day going forward, be gentler with yourself, but stricter about your excuses. Rest when you need to, but don’t confuse rest with retreat. You are allowed to feel lost without making a home there. You are allowed to grieve the version of life you thought you’d have by now, while still building a different one.

This letter promises you this: the version of you that will look back on this period will not see wasted time. They will see the quiet forging of resilience, discernment, and depth. They will recognise this as the season where you learned to move without guarantees and to trust yourself instead of outcomes.

So, take the step you’re afraid won’t be enough. Speak the truth you’ve been rehearsing in silence. Begin before you feel ready. I am waiting for you on the other side of action, not perfected, not invincible, but undeniably alive.

And when you arrive, you’ll realise you were never truly stuck. You were becoming.

From your future self.