“You’re in the gap,” observed my supervisor, calmly commenting on the difficulties I had expressed about being in a period of transition.
For those of you who don’t know, I’m in the process of
relocating from the Boston area to my hometown in Southern California. This is a huge change for me. Many of my private practice clients will
continue to see me for regular therapy sessions via online counseling (a topic
for a separate article), but most of my clinic clients are not in a financial
position to pay me out of pocket, and insurance doesn’t cover online
therapy. What this means is that
recently, I had to look into the eyes of 31 people who I care very, very much
about and tell them that I am no longer able to be part of their support system.
All this, on top of the normal stuff that comes with moving
across the country – a grueling 45 hour drive in 4 days, figuring out the
logistics of packing up my belongings, apartment searching, job searching,
hugging all my Boston friends goodbye, and just generally wondering what life
has in store. And oh yeah, applying for
my counseling license in California, since there’s no interstate reciprocity.
And on top of all that logistical stuff, there’s an
emotional toll. It’s the same emotional
toll that comes from being in any period of transition, when you know something
major is about to change in your life, but you can’t be there quite yet. In a lot of ways, it’s like what most people
experience when they’re planning a wedding, or having a baby, or buying a
house, or preparing for their elderly parent to move in with them, or getting
ready to go away to college. Any of
these things is a huge change that happens in a way that you can plan (as
opposed to illness, car accidents, winning the lottery – all huge life changes
that happen suddenly and spontaneously), which means that there’s a period of
anticipation.
That anticipation – it’s exciting, but it’s also
frustrating. It’s like having a foot in
each world, and not really being able to put all your weight in either. You don’t want to put down roots in the old
life because that’s about to change. And
you’re not really in a position to make concrete plans for the life to come,
because there are so many unknown factors.
Or, in other words, it’s about being in the gap. Allow me to explain.
My supervisor, who I also view as a mentor, is knowledgeable
about Buddhist philosophy. He told me
that in Buddhism, there are four parts to a breath:
- Inhale
- Hold the breath
- Exhale
- Gap
The gap is that space between breaths where nothing much is
really going on. You’ve finished the
last breath and you haven’t quite started the next one, so for a moment, you’re
not breathing. But it’s not like you
panic every time you finish exhaling – you know the next breath will come. I think it’s a beautiful metaphor for periods
of transition.
So that’s how I’m trying to think about it. Everything feels like chaos right now while I
get ready to move. But it’s not chaos,
not really. It’s just the gap. And soon, the next breath will come.
