An Analogy of Life: The Phases We Move Through

The changes in life we may or may not notice

We often think of life as a series of distinct chapters, childhood, youth, adulthood, old age, as though each phase begins where the last one ends. In reality, it does not feel that clean. It feels layered, recursive, almost invisible and intangible.

Life feels analogous to a moving train, always moving forward. It starts at birth and ends at death, constantly moving forward with time. The phases change. We evolve, regress, fall, grow, reform, err, and make amends. But the train keeps moving, whether we notice it or not.

When did one phase end and another begin? Do you remember? There is no specific day when you woke up and were no longer a child. It happens so subtly that you don’t notice. By the time you do, when you think, “I am an adult,” you have already been one for some time.

There are some phases in life that have a very distinct ending, where you know that part of your life is done. For instance, when you graduate from high school or college. You know that last day marks the end of that phase. You are no longer living in that dorm or seeing your classmates and friends every day. It is a clear sense of closure.

The changes and phases in life, whether we notice them or not, have a profound effect on us, sometimes positive, sometimes not.

Phases With Clear Endings

There are times in our lives when things come to an end and mark the beginning of the next chapter. Graduating from school, getting married or divorced, changing jobs, children moving out. These are transitions we recognize as they happen.

And then there are endings that arrive without warning. I remember a day when everything was as usual. There was nothing to suggest that anything was about to change. The next morning, I woke up to the news that the father of my children had passed away during the night. The last time I saw him, he had stopped by on his way to the airport. That was it. That ended a phase of my life unexpectedly. He was only in his mid-forties.

There are also times when you are aware that a phase in your life is ending, but it is not tied to a specific date. Even within these moments, the ending is not always as clearly defined as it seems. These transitions carry more weight. They require more thought, more emotional bandwidth, and often come with a deeper sense of uncertainty.

For instance, after a very painful event in my life, I had to make a difficult choice. I knew that phase of my life had to end, but knowing that did not make the decision any easier. I remember sitting at the edge of a pool late into the night, my feet in the water, a bottle of wine beside me, crying like I hadn’t in a long time. It was June in Michigan, warm and rainy. The rain poured down on me for hours, but I stayed there, drenched. I felt like the skies wept for me, that fateful night, hiding away my tears. When I finally went back inside at 3am, a decision had been made. I never cried again.

But the decision itself was not the ending. The actual ending came two years later. The decision paved the way for it. Once I made that decision, what transpired over the next two years had no bearing on whether it would happen. That phase of my life ended that night. Whether it actually happened then or not, it had already ended in my mind.

So some endings in life are situational, and some are internal. Some are positive, and some are painful. But in both, there is awareness. You know that something is coming to an end.

In contrast, there are phases that are not as clear. You move through them without realizing that something has ended or that something new has begun.

Phases Without Clear Endings

Do you remember the moment you became aware that you were no longer a child? That transition happens so gradually that one day you simply realize, “I am no longer a child.” Many teenagers believe that turning eighteen marks that shift into adulthood. Legally, yes. But mentally, that realization often takes time.

I distinctly remember a trip to Mexico, where I took my daughter for her senior spring break along with a few of her friends and their chaperones. When these teenagers, aged seventeen to eighteen, got in the hot tub with a ten-year-old younger sibling, the lifeguard announced that children were not allowed. I smiled as all four girls immediately got out along with the younger boy. I told them the lifeguard was not referring to them.

This is a simple example of a phase in transition. Their age had changed, but in their minds, they were still children.

I sometimes go back and watch my daughter’s videos from a few years ago. I am always struck by how much she has changed in such a short time. I didn’t notice that change in real time. It was happening without my awareness. When did she grow from reaching my elbow to now reaching up to my ears?

What I don’t remember is this. I used to pick her up all the time. One day, I picked her up for the last time, and I didn’t know that phase had ended, that she would never be picked up by her mom again. She spoke with a little lisp, and one day she did it for the last time, and I didn’t know I would never hear it again. Every phase that ended, ended without my awareness.

I also remember waking up one day, not knowing it would be the last time I woke up next to someone. Sometimes life changes so abruptly that you are not sure whether it is an ending or something else.

The Changing Internal Landscape

The phases of life do not just change with situations or circumstances. There is an internal landscape that shifts over time and with experience.

For instance, I remember reconnecting with a friend after thirty years. She said I seemed like the same bubbly girl from high school. It caught me off guard, because I did not remember myself that way. But when I look back, I can see that I was more outwardly enthusiastic than I am now. I don’t know when that bubbly girl phase ended, and I became someone more measured, more serious. There was no moment, no event, no clear transition. It simply changed.

The same is true of my ability to hold myself together. I don’t recall when that transition happened, from feeling lost to where I stand today, confident that I can handle whatever comes my way.

It is not always clear when these internal changes happen. When you look back and see a different version of yourself, know that you were the best version of yourself at that point in time. The internal landscape changes with your experiences.

The Transient Nature of Phases

There is no single way that phases in life come to an end. We often look for clear markers, moments we can point to and say, that was the end. But more often than not, life does not offer that clarity. It moves forward, whether we are ready for it or aware of it.

And perhaps that is what makes life feel layered and recursive. We are not always moving from one phase to another in clean lines. We are moving through them, often without knowing when one has ended and another has begun.

The train keeps moving. Whether we notice it or not.