Making Space for Discomfort in Transitions

We all expect hard times when a tough transition hits…a person is diagnosed with cancer, a house burns down, or there is a sudden car accident. It’s rough when tragedy strikes and all of life changes in an instant. In the case of serious illness, the transition may be expected…a relative dies after being in palliative care for some time, or the house goes into final foreclosure…and even with notice, the transition is huge and requires significant adjustment.

All of a sudden, a huge transition means:

the old routines are gone, and one is thrust into a situation with a changed routine, or maybe even no routine. No familiar regular patterns in which to find comfort
a new reality that feels unfamiliar and difficult
a bunch of unknowns as a new reality brings up discomfort and pain as one has no idea what happens “around the next corner” of this adventure called life

So…we all understand that when tragedy strikes, life changes.

But what about when the transition is something long desired, excitedly anticipated and eagerly hoped for?

like the birth of a baby
graduating from university (no more term papers or exams–yippee!!)
marriage
the trip you’ve been saving for, for years

Those transitions also have:

the old routines are gone, and one is thrust into a situation with a changed routine, or maybe even no routine. No familiar regular patterns in which to find comfort
a new reality that feels unfamiliar and difficult
a bunch of unknowns as a new reality brings up discomfort and pain as one has no idea what happens “around the next corner” of this adventure called life

I remember leaving the house the first time after the birth of a little junior tribe member. Baby in the car seat, buckle the baby in the car seat. Get diaper bag ready with multiple supplies. Carry baby in car seat and diaper bag to car. Open back door of car, buckle car seat into the car, close back door, and then, and only then get into the car to drive off.

And the first time, I was fortunate not to have to do any “do-overs” (you know, hear terrible noises coming from baby and have to unbuckle baby, change baby, and rebuckle baby). And the first time, it was in late spring…no snowsuits, thick blankets, and pre-warming the car required.

And I remember thinking…”Yikes..this is the first time of now multiple years of all of this just to drive off in the car. Leaving the house will no longer be easy.” And it felt like a big deal, a huge deal…having this heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that life from here on in was going to be hard and complicated…and I wasn’t prepared for that. Years later, I can still feel that feeling very powerfully when I remember putting that car seat in the car for the first time at home.

I also wasn’t prepared for the reality of never getting more than three or four hours of consecutive sleep for months…and the bone-wearying effect that would have on my day to day life. Or the fact that I never seemed to eat meals when they were fresh and hot. Or the fact that just going to the movies had to be planned days in advance.

I loved my junior tribe member with all my heart, and down to the bottom of my toes. The gift of this child was priceless and I was filled with joy. I would have given my life for this little creature. I was completely enraptured.

And completely overwhelmed.

But I felt like I was expected to “love every minute” of it. I was supposed to treasure this special time. People told me to revel in how precious it was…and it was precious, and it was something I had longed for like nothing else I ever had longed for in my entire life…truly. and And so the difficulties of transition were not something I felt comfortable talking about with others, because it seemed like I would be grumping over the miraculous birth, or wishing the JTM gone, or I was somehow ungrateful for this precious miracle I had been gifted with…and that just wasn’t the case. I was delighted, I didn’t want him gone…

…but I struggled with the transition…even though I wanted it and was thrilled.

The same sort of thing happened when I finished university. I was excited and anticipating life without papers and exams, and life with a regular paycheck. It was great…until mid December, when my body felt like it deserved a two week break, and the work schedule said I would get two days off at Christmas. That was unexpectedly hard. It was supposed to be all good when I graduated…and it was a lot of good, but it was a lot of different and a lot of stressful, and a few parts (to my surprise) weren’t as good as university.

No one told me about that.

(or if they did, I didn’t hear)

Transitions are challenging. Even good ones that have been planned and joyfully anticipated. Or good ones that surprise us. Like falling in love…

Falling in love is a major transition. Falling in love is vulnerable and terrifying…and oh, so worth it. But it’s not for the faint of heart. That catches people by surprise…the fear that accompanies the vulnerability of letting someone in to the depths of your soul. It’s rich and simultaneously terrifying.

poster by Bergen and Associates that says: “When you love someone, truly love them, you lay your heart open to them. You give them a part of yourself that you give to no one else, and you let them inside a part of you that only they can hurt-you literally hand them the razor with a map of where to cut deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul. And when they do strike, it’s crippling-like having your heart carved out.” ― Sherrilyn Kenyon

A transition of any type creates uncertainty and change…which has us feel vulnerable. Vulnerability produces the feelings of pain and discomfort. We need to support each other during transitions of all types, even “good ones” or welcomed and planned for transitions. Normalizing the difficult parts of even good changes in our lives helps folks be able to talk about it and deal with it so the tough and scary parts don’t threaten to hijack the wonder and joy in a positive transition.

Can we all work towards creating the space that gives permission to feel the discomfort and articulate the uncertainty, even amidst the joy and excitement of the good things that have come into our lives?

_{This post written to address the topic of transitions. October is National Occupational Therapy month…and with National OT month comes the annual blog carnival which I love to contribute towards and be a part of this year as I have in past years. I’m proud to be an Occupational Therapist, and because I’m not a “mainstream” Occupational Therapist and practice off in a side speciality, I don’t hang out with other OT’s as much as I used to. I am thrilled when I get to join my OT colleagues to do OT things.}