The Space Between

Over time, I started to change in ways I didn’t even notice at first.

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I stopped calling people just to talk. Texts got shorter, less intentional. I’d reach for my phone the moment silence crept in - even when I was with people I loved. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. I just forgot how to slow down long enough to show it.

Somewhere along the way, I began curating my life more than I was living it. Sharing highlights, filtering flaws, always trying to be 'on.' But real connection doesn’t live in the highlight reel - t lives in the pauses. In the awkwardness. In the unfiltered eye contact that quietly says, I see you.

I missed that.

I missed me.

The version of me who would sit in cafés for hours, lost in conversation. The me who didn’t feel the need to document every moment, but instead lived fully in it. No distractions. No filters.

That’s when I started thinking about the idea of becoming. Not just who we are on paper, or what we achieve - but who we are becoming in the in-between moments. When no one’s watching. When we’re not performing.

Are we growing more human, more honest? Or are we outsourcing our presence to pixels and pings?

It’s easy to get swept up in what we think is important - chasing that next job, striving for financial security, ticking off milestones like checkpoints on a map. But somewhere in all that striving, we can miss what’s right in front of us. The people. The stillness. The moments that don’t shout, but whisper.

How often do we really get the chance to reset?

One night, my brother - who’s unique in his own way - told me something that stayed with me. He said that when he’s out in the wilderness, hunting or building a fire for the evening’s meal, it’s his way of resetting. Far from the concrete noise, the screens, the demands. Out there, it’s just him and the land. That space strips everything down to the essentials. And it made me wonder: Is that his becoming? And if so… what is mine?

For the longest time, I thought I was chasing dreams. Maybe I was. Or maybe I was just chasing noise dressed up as purpose. I wish it were simpler. But in truth, right now is. This moment - unfiltered, imperfect - is all we really have. And with a moment’s notice, it can disappear.

And if we’re not careful, we’ll be left with only memories. Regrets that whisper, I should’ve. I could’ve. But by then, it’s too late.

Still, there’s hope. There are parts of us - quiet, patient parts - that remember. That still know how to be present. That existed before the mayhem of algorithms and endless scrolling. Those parts still know how to become.

And maybe the journey isn’t about becoming someone else.

Maybe it’s about returning to who we were - before we forgot.

So maybe the real question is:

When was the last time you reset?

When was the last time you sat with yourself - not the version of you polished for the world, but the one who aches to be seen, heard, and felt?

We spend so much time chasing what’s next - dreams, jobs, places, validation—that we risk leaving behind what’s already here.

The people we love.

The ones we might not get the chance to see again if we move too fast, travel too far, or stay too distracted.

What would it look like to stop for a moment? To put the phone down, step away from the noise, and ask ourselves honestly:

Who am I becoming?

Not in the eyes of others, not by titles or timelines - but in the quiet, sacred space of now.

You don’t always need a mountaintop or a passport to find yourself.

Sometimes becoming starts by simply being - with the people who matter, in the moments that count.

And if I’ve learned anything lately, it’s this: becoming isn’t always graceful. It’s messy pages, broken plans, and half-painted rainbows. 

It’s loving through the ache, choosing presence over perfection, and forgiving ourselves for the days we forget how. But most of all, it’s remembering to love - not just those we hold close every day, but also the ones we’ve let drift to the edges, the ones we meant to call back. 

Say what matters. Begin again, even if it’s halfway through the page. And never, ever give up on who you’re still becoming.

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Life isn't about getting more. It's about becoming more. - Unknown

@alberteppo