Transitions

I think there are blocks of time in life that appear more significant than others. Some are very obvious, like accomplishments, surviving something painful, arriving at something joyful, making a big decision. Transitions.

It’s easy for us to talk about these things, because they cannot be ignored. They demand to be lived. And so we talk about them, or celebrate them, or collaborate over their dreadfulness, or all of that. I think that’s important. I think the Internet has made that even more important, and has saved so very many people from feeling alone in their experience. I know it has helped me.

I think there is something less talked about, though. The After. That period of time that falls after the huge event, after the story has gotten exciting or thrilling or threatened. The time when things settle again. Briefly, this time can recharge. “I have my life back” we say, but only briefly. Because something I have learned about pushing through is that we are not naturally meant to settle. Yes, many of us do, for a lot of good reasons. Or, some of us are more patient, more content to wait. But even in that, our mind is not naturally made to pause. Outwardly it may appear we’re paused while on the inside we’re anticipating, planning, hoping.

The natural breath in the moment between impact and settling is relatively short, and whatever the impact was becomes old news. Often it brings the gift of hindsight, of gratitude, of lessons, yes, but we’re not meant to live in between. And so we feel the urge to move. Even if we are afraid, even if we resist, the urge is still there, half curse and half blessing.

The last year or so of my life has been about moving out of that between breath. The excitement and stress and fear and hope of changing my life has faded now. The uncertainty is still very present, but it has become easier to live with. It is more like a tolerable roommate than a stinky house guest. I don’t love it, but it’s not getting any worse either. I have changed in a lot of ways, I have become healthier, more grateful, and more kind.

I have learned a lot of patience in this time, I have grown to know it better. It is not the tolerable roommate that uncertainty is, but it’s an only semi-annoying neighbor. Which is why it’s hard to simultaneously deal with that urge I mentioned earlier. Because it’s naturally there, demanding I move. It’s demanding I keep becoming, keep working toward a future that barely has a shape.

I guess I’m in a transition of another kind now. I’m being pushed out of the comfort of having done something big and life changing and now I need to look forward again. I can’t be consumed by the moment any more, as this moment is fading. It’s another transition, it’s just this time I have no idea what it looks like. But, a couple years ago I wouldn’t have described quitting a job as a place of comfort, either. So I have hope.