Navigating the in-between

This is part 2 of a 3-part series sharing Jarrod Matteson's story about why he left his successful career in big law—and why he joined Prasada. Read part 1 of the series here.

Standing at the Edge of the Unknown

It wasn’t a singular, dramatic moment when I decided to leave my legal career.  I eventually made the first phone call to relay to one of my partners that I decided to move on, but before that, I could not pinpoint the exact moment I decided to leave. 

It was a slow, unraveling process—an ebb and flow between conviction and self-doubt. In part 1 of this blog series, I shared that I wasn’t unhappy with my career, but that whisper kept pointing to a tension within me. I weighed the pain and uncertainty of leaving against the pain and tension of staying. With pros and cons for each path, I waded through questions, reflections, and conversations. Eventually, I gathered enough momentum. The hardest part wasn’t making the decision to leave. It was being with the feelings of uncertainty and doubt,  and learning to sit with the discomfort of the liminal space between the life I knew and the life I heard calling.

In many ways, I had been preparing for this transition long before I consciously realized it. The whisper that followed me through my career had grown louder, becoming an undeniable call toward something different. But knowing change is necessary doesn’t make it easy. The moment I acknowledged that I was ready to step into the unknown, another voice emerged—one that was shouting.

Who do you think you are?

What if you fail?

Are you really willing to let go of everything you’ve built?

My inner critics were out in their finest and loudest form. 

For years, my identity was being a lawyer. It wasn’t just my career. I introduced myself by saying,  “I am a lawyer.” I had invested two decades in becoming reliable, respected, and accomplished in my field. To voluntarily step away from that foundation felt destabilizing, like pulling a thread to unravel the entire tapestry of my life. 

Yet, even in the discomfort, something deeper knew the unraveling wasn’t destruction. It is what I wanted and needed to grow.  

The Expectations We Carry

There is a belief that external pressures, like societal definitions of success, family expectations, and professional validation, are the biggest obstacles to our ability to change. No one person’s life exists in a vacuum. External pressures certainly play a role in our lives. But as I sat in this liminal space, I could feel that the most unforgiving expectations were the ones I placed on myself.

For years I had equated success with stability, achievement, and status. Letting go of my legal career meant confronting the question I had been avoiding all along:

Without my title, my salary, and my professional success, who am I?

That question was heavy. This wasn’t just about work and career. It was about identity. The structure I had built around myself as a lawyer had given me a sense of certainty. Without it, I felt exposed, uncertain, and on unstable ground.

I wrestled with the possibility that I might regret my decision. That I might find myself lost, drifting without direction. And yet, even as I sat with the fear and doubt, I also recognized a quiet truth:

I wasn’t lost. I was in between.

My math and legal background taught me that ambiguity is an invitation for exploration. The space between leaving and arriving—between the known and the unknown—uncertainty isn’t a problem to be solved. It’s part of the process.

Sitting with Discomfort

I struggled through many moments of sitting with discomfort, using my practices of mindfulness and meditation, resisting the urge to escape it. Working with numb legs and an itchy nose while sitting in meditation is one thing that helped prepare me. But sitting with this career decision and all the possibilities ahead was my most intense practice yet.

I had no clear roadmap, no linear plan. Some days, I felt a deep sense of trust in what was unfolding. On other days, I felt the full weight of doubt pressing on me. There were moments when I second-guessed everything. I wondered if I should just start my own legal practice to play it safe while I transitioned to pursuing my true passions. 

But I knew that wasn’t the answer. This wasn’t about making a safer transition. It was about making one that was more aligned with what mattered to me. 

It was time for me to accept my reality and sit with the discomfort. The only way I knew how to do that was through my daily practices.

Meditation became more than a morning ritual. It became my anchor. I wasn’t meditating to feel better or to run from my emotions. I was meditating to practice holding space for myself, and the uncertainty arising within me. I was holding space to allow the fear and doubt to exist without letting them dictate my choices.

I also reconnected with a qigong practice. Bringing mindfulness to physical movement was a helpful transition to bring mindfulness “off the mat” to my real-world daily experience. Over time, it became more natural to carry this clarity of mind with me into the day. The same fears and doubts continued to appear, but with these practices, they had less power over me each time.

As I sat and made space for the discomfort,  I realized growth isn’t about eliminating fear. It’s about expanding your capacity to hold it.

Reframing Fear as a Guide

At some point in this transition, my experience of fear shifted from seeing it as an enemy. Fear became a signpost.

Fear wasn’t telling me to turn back. It was a marker showing me that I was stretching beyond what was familiar and reaching a new growth edge.

I thought about the moments in my life when I felt the most alive—the moments of deep connection, curiosity, and purpose. Every single one required stepping into something unknown.

Fear wasn’t trying to stop me. It was letting me know that I was growing.

With that shift the fear didn’t disappear, but it lost its grip. Instead of asking, What if this doesn’t work out? I started asking, What if it does?

Stepping Forward, One Uncertain Step at a Time

There wasn’t a single moment when I suddenly felt “ready.” There was no lightning bolt of certainty. Instead, there were small moments of enough trust to take the next step and then the next.

I started sharing my story more openly, talking with family, colleagues, and clients about the transition I was making. To my surprise, I wasn’t met with skepticism or judgment. I was met with recognition.

People confided in me about their own whispers, their own longings for something more. They weren’t doubting me—they were inspired.

And I realized that this difficult decision was not unique to me. Many of us feel the pull toward something deeper but hesitate because the path isn’t clearly marked.

This was about redefining success—not as security, but as alignment.

This was about choosing curiosity over certainty, and purpose over predictability.

The Invitation of the In-Between

Looking back, I see that the in-between wasn’t an obstacle to overcome. It was the necessary passage.

It was the space where I learned to listen more deeply to myself.

I let go of the illusion of certainty and made peace with the unknown.

I discovered that the courage to change isn’t about having all the answers.

It was about the willingness to take the first step, even when I didn’t know exactly where it would lead.

What internal or external expectations might be keeping you from stepping into your next chapter?

How do you respond to uncertainty? Do you try to resolve it, or can you sit with it?

What would happen if you saw fear not as a barrier but as a guide?

If this resonates with you, I invite you to join our mailing list for more reflections and resources on navigating change with courage and intention.