Notes From Self Digest #3: Standing at the Threshold

When what was and what could be meet

May 27, 2025

Welcome to Notes From Self, where my past and present selves converse across time. Each week, I revisit journal entries from seven years ago, sharing daily-ish reflections on Substack Notes about how these past writings echo in my current journey. This digest collects these time-traveling dialogues, creating a map of connections between who I was and who I'm becoming. I invite you to join this exploration of how our dots connect across time.1

One of my favorite pictures (also a favorite memory) was taken on a spur of the moment detour during a trip visiting family in Ireland back in 2013. My sister had spotted what looked like an old abbey earlier in the day and asked our cousin about it. So instead of heading straight back to their house, we decided to explore.

We found ourselves at the ruins of a medieval Franciscan friary known to the locals as Ross Abbey. From the moment we pulled up it felt magical. We had the place to ourselves, well, just us and the cows grazing in the field.

As we walked around, my then 81-year-old Dad was like a little kid, using his cane (that should have been for balance) to point at doorways and platforms, wondering aloud what it all must have looked like over 500 years ago.

I took a ton of pictures that day: of dad with his cane, of the cows sunning themselves, of walls with no ceiling, just open sky. But one picture always stands out. It was taken through an old stone doorway within the friary walls, looking out into an open field. Just grass and sky for as far as the eye can see.

As I was reading over last week's notes the word threshold came to mind, and immediately so did this picture.

A magic doorway? Ross Errilly Friary, Co. Galway, Ireland

Thresholds are quite literally the stone or wood that create entryways. Figuratively, they can represent a transition point, the place in which you step from one part of life into another.

These metaphorical thresholds can be trickier to navigate than the physical ones. In these doorways that only live in our minds, we might rush towards them only to halt and stop as we get closer. We tend to linger, to pause, to look back at what it is we’re leaving behind.

I saw all of this as I reread this week’s notes. I started on a high note, patting myself on the back for successfully delivering my first Toastmasters speech. At that point in my life, giving a speech was completely out of character for me.

But here I was, doing something I would have never dreamed of. It gave me a boost of confidence for what else I might surprise myself with. I was taking tentative steps toward that doorway but I couldn’t help but linger and look back.

Did I really have the courage to take such a big leap? Would I follow through, or quickly retreat back to safety? No one would have been surprised if I'd turned back. Myself least of all.

And looking forward? Just vast amounts of space. What was out there? I didn’t want to think about it so I filled it with busywork, fixing problems, answering questions, or anything other than considering what was to come next.

Just like in that photo from Ireland, I was standing on one side of the door with all its history and well-worn pathways looking out into an endless open field.

It would take another month or so, but eventually I’d cross the threshold. And no, I didn’t run back.

Note From Self #11

I did it. I finished my speech. It gave it. I did awesome. Perfect? No. But for my first speech I totally kicked ass. — Maghan, April 2018

No notes. Just love seeing past me giving herself credit.2

Note From Self #12

It’s almost as if I wanted to want those things. — Maghan, April 2018

2018 me being honest about not wanting the job above mine or the one above that. Why stay if the path is a dead end? Or worse, gets me even more ensconced in a world and work that's not for me.

But because it was the path I found myself on — hell, a path I put myself on — I tried so hard for so long to believe it was what I wanted.

I wonder, what areas of my life today am I simply wanting to want?

Where else am I trying to convince myself to desire what I think I should, rather than honoring what truly resonates?

Where are you doing the same?

Note From Self #13

E and I were joking yesterday - at one point he said a week after you leave I’ll get the phone call…I wonder how much he thinks that’s true. I wonder how much I do. — Maghan, April 2018

It's not all that surprising to read that someone, even in jest, doubted whether I'd really follow through or would turn back and ask for my old job back. I wasn't prone to making high-risk decisions that required a complete change of course. I was pretty predictable.

But 2025 me was a little taken aback reading my own doubts that it would stick. But of course I'd think that then — I hadn't yet lived it and didn't have all the other examples showing just how resilient, adaptable, and yes, brave, I can be. And maybe, just maybe, I enjoy proving others (and myself) wrong when doubt creeps in.

So why then can it still be so hard to claim that bravery in the moment?

Note From Self #14

I should have stopped and taken a breath and given myself space. I have a really hard time doing that. — Maghan, April 2018

I was berating myself for my response at work the day before where it felt like everyone was coming at me, trying to give me their work.

What I can see now is that it wasn't really just about space in that moment. It was about my own need to fill up every crevice of time so I didn't have to face the expansive amount of space I was about to step into. Even work I didn't want became a familiar problem to solve instead of sitting with the unknown.

Easy to see this now after just doing the same thing leading up to this move. That space, that uncertainty, becomes the last thing we want to think about. So we fill it to give ourselves a sense of control, as a distraction from facing all of the questions we don't have answers to.

But eventually you step over that invisible line and find yourself in new terrain with nothing but wide open space.

Note From Self #15

…I need to learn how to get myself space. I need the focus to be me and my future. I need to stop caring but I can’t. I just can’t. It’s not in my nature. — Maghan, April 2018

Here I am talking about space again. This time equating the need for space for self being opposed to giving care for others. And once again, beating myself up for falling into well-worn patterns.

It was no surprise when I took the Sparketype Assessment and discovered I was a Nurturer.3 Caring is what I do. It's who I am at my core. But that doesn't mean it has to come at the expense of myself. It's not a zero-sum game.

I know this now. I know how that call to service can often lead to depletion.

Past me was experiencing that depletion — giving so much of herself in service to others that she'd lost sight of her own needs.

This break, this sabbatical was a desperate attempt to put space between her and this overwhelming need to be of service. I’m not sure I realized it at the time, but the space I was about to step into wasn’t a break from caring, but rather a pathway to a new, more intentional way to show and give care.

Life: A Series of Thresholds

Life is a series of thresholds. Some we choose to approach, others we get unceremoniously pushed through.

For the unchosen ones, all we can do is pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and get acclimated to the new terrain.

For the ones we approach on our own, we might want to linger. That’s okay, but don't linger too long. At some point you have to decide: step through, turn back, or maybe look for another door.

You’re not stuck where you are. Just as you’re not obligated to forge ahead.

You get to decide. But don't leave yourself lingering in the limbo of that threshold forever.

The decision’s yours. What will it be?

Until next week's notes,

~Maghan

Happy Birthday Dad

It’s fitting that this memory came up when it did as Dad would have turned 93 this tomorrow. To celebrate, I'm sharing a few more pictures from this magical trip with my favorite guy.