Byline: Ever feel like you’re living two lives—and crushing it in neither? Let’s talk about navigating the in-between.

The Middle Ground is Messy (But So Are We)
Picture this: You’re standing in a doorway—half in, half out. On one side, a room full of people chatting in a language you mostly understand but occasionally stumble over. On the other, an equally crowded space featuring traditions you’ve long known but no longer quite feel you can claim as your own. That push and pull? That’s life in the in-between.

I know it well because I’ve lived it for years. Not just in the metaphorical, “finding myself” sense but quite literally. As someone who bounced between the small-town charm of Coeur d’Alene’s pine-fringed shores and the open-door cosmopolitanism of grad school seminars in Oregon, I’ve learned that life between two worlds is like straddling a log drifting on a restless river: challenging but wildly rewarding.

The thing about existing between cultures, identities, or lifestyles is that it forces you to ask, “Where do I really fit?” Spoiler: sometimes the answer is “nowhere,” and weirdly, that’s the best place to be.

Why Living in Two Realms Can Feel Like Emotional Ping-Pong
The dualities we straddle—whether cultural, personal, or professional—create a unique cocktail of restlessness and adaptability. In your early days of juggling two worlds, you might feel:

  • Like a fraud. One moment, you’re quoting Thoreau to impress earthy intellectuals at a microbrewery; the next, your childhood bestie calls you out for “getting too fancy” just because you now refer to your hometown as “quaint.”
  • Unmoored. You’ve experienced the backyard BBQs of your roots and the rooftop wine-tastings of your aspirations. And somehow, both feel alien and familiar at the same time.
  • Like an emotional contortionist. You’re fluent in multiple vocabularies—academic, rural, professional—but your brain feels like that one overloaded electrical outlet.

When one part of you feels firmly grounded in tradition and another roams free in progressive, not-quite-broken-in shoes, conflict bubbles up. Throw in a family dinner where Aunt Karen eyeballs your quinoa salad and asks when you abandoned “real food,” and congratulations! You’ve won Bingo in cultural duality absurdity.

Lessons from the Liminal Space
If you, too, exist in this hazy middle ground, I see you. And let me tell you, it’s not all awkward pauses and identity crises. Here’s what I’ve learned about making peace with living between worlds.

1. You’re Not a Puzzle Piece (So, Stop Trying to Fit)

I spent much of my late twenties trying to mold myself into whatever version of Avery I thought the moment required. In conservation meetings back home, I emphasized my salt-of-the-earth roots. At grad-school parties, I quoted Wallace Stegner until my tongue hurt. But the truth is, no one fully fits in anywhere.

It’s freeing to recognize that your identity isn’t a pre-defined set of puzzle pieces; it’s more like a collage—a bit from here, a bit from there, messy and unplanned but beautiful for exactly that reason. Instead of bending yourself to fit a shape, ask yourself: what stories from both my worlds am I proud to carry forward?

2. Treat Contradictions Like a Superpower

Here’s something that took me years (and one memorable existential hiking trip outside Missoula) to figure out: Your contradictions aren’t flaws. They’re tools.

Having your feet in two worlds makes you adaptable and empathetic—whether it’s balancing differing cultural norms in relationships or negotiating the “loving small-town living vs. yearning for the city hustle” divide. You learn early on how to speak other “languages,” not just literally, but emotionally.

Think of these skills as your dual-lingual decoder ring for relationships:
- Unsure how to bond with your opposites-attract lover? Draw on your experiences toggling between social circles.
- Partner struggling with conflicting goals? Hey, you’re a pro at mixing seemingly opposed ideas. (After all, I’ve spent entire dinners explaining how loving The Decemberists doesn’t contradict my passion for country-fried steak.)

3. Build Your Own “Third World”

If no single world feels exactly like home, don’t wait for one to magically appear. Build your own. This realization hit me like a truck on a trip back to Idaho after two years in Oregon. In my absence, I realized the lakeside hometown of my past wasn’t my sole identity anymore. But neither could Portland’s quirky bookstores and craft beer bars define who I had become.

So I cherry-picked. Today, my life feels like the best of both worlds—smack in the middle of that very literal geographic gorge between Idaho and Oregon. My husband (who I affectionately call “Paul Bunyan Lite” for his flannel game and love of the outdoors) and I built a life that blends our two spaces: meals cooked over a wood fire followed by late-night debates that’d make my grad advisors proud.

Dating in the In-Between

Can I tell you how this duality might just be the best thing to happen to your dating life? Forget being “too much” of this or “not enough” of that. Living between worlds sharpens your ability to blend, compromise, and adapt—skills that make you magnetic in relationships.

Here’s how to carry your in-between identity with pride:
- Own Your Story. When someone asks, “So where are you from?” don’t minimize your complexity. Start with your roots but don’t shy away from the mixed bag of experiences.
- See Conflict as Growth. Let’s face it: dating someone with different cultural or lifestyle norms might feel like navigating cultural diplomacy. Lean in. Differences deepen your connection.
- Embrace Your Weird. Multidimensional people are fascinating. The way your Spotify playlist hops from Iron & Wine to Taylor Swift is endearing. Own it.

Home Isn’t a Place—It’s a Feeling
Here’s the truth about living between worlds: you’ll often feel untethered. But don’t confuse “unanchored” with “lost.” This space—the in-between—forces you to get super clear about what you value, whom you want to surround yourself with, and how you’ll embrace contradictions.

For me, living between worlds has become less about choosing one over the other and more about creating a space where both belong—small-town sunsets and city lights, tradition and progress, nostalgia and ambition, all coexisting like some beautifully overgrown flower garden.

Wherever you’re living—physically, mentally, relationally—let it be yours. There’s no “perfect fit,” but maybe that’s the point. Life’s loveliest moments tend to happen when we’re teetering between who we were and who we’re becoming. Keep straddling that log. Trust me, the view’s incredible.