Transitions

For the past few days, my bedroom floor has seen suitcases strewn around, mouths yawning wide, waiting to be filled and closed. For the past couple days, I have mostly been in bed, waiting for the antibiotics to kick in, trying to avoid looking at those suitcases or the things that need to be done for the upcoming travel.

It’s the transition, and the apprehension that goes with it, I tell myself. Oddly enough I feel better. In acknowledging the transition, the uncertainty of the next stage and the emotional inertia, I give myself the permission to feel what I feel. Even if that doesn’t help me get things done, it helps me feel better, in knowing that it will get done, that it is not as daunting, even if all I do, is turn the other side and burrow my head in the pillow.

It’s truly all about transitions. But let me back up a little. To the long weekend that went by recently.

In second grade, our kid went to an overnight camp through school and ever since, has wanted for us to do the family camp there. It took us four years to finally make it happen. But it did happen this past long weekend, and we spent the weekend close to nature, filled with activities and enthusiastic families. Most activities, even if they seemed challenging, were for most ages and abilities. And till about a decade ago, I wouldn’t have given a second thought about any of them.

But a lot has happened to me physically in the past decade, and I am never quite sure what my body will allow me to do. So I did my share of faltering and evaluating and humming and hawing.

I also realized that it is often mostly about transitions (at least for me). That instance of uncertainty about the next thing about to happen.

As illustrated best, by the catwalk, which involves walking on a log of wood, some 20-30 feet above the ground. It is really not as difficult as the image you may have conjured in your mind. And as I mentioned, a decade ago, I would have had no hesitation. I would have done it cautiously, I’m sure, even then, but without any second guesses. So let me tell you how this one went.

I end up being among the last in the group to go. After watching some complete the course effortlessly (including my husband and kid), and others hesitate, develop cold feet, and not quite make it to the end.  

When it is my turn, I manage to put the harness the wrong way. Hmm… stalling tactic? Then walk to the tree and realize that I need to tie my shoe laces, both shoe laces, but of course. Shoe laces tied, harness the right way, I get up and start climbing the staples on the tree.

“Want to get harnessed first?” the instructor asked. Of course, after stalling, now I am in a rush to get it over with. Embarrassed, I manage a laugh, get the rope hooked to the harness, and climb up. The climb is easy. Now it is time to hold the belay and get on to the log. Transition. I balk.

“Maybe I’ll just climb down the staples on the tree”, I call from the top. The transition seems daunting. The nebulous split second of moving from the tree to the log. The group eggs me on and I decide to get on the log. Not bad, I think as I hold the belay.

I traverse the log. Quite easy, really. I tell the folks below they can be as noisy as they want to. By then I have reached the end. Which means, another transition.

“Come back to the center and then turn around”. I come back to the center and then freeze. Again. Another transition. I realize I will have to take a foot off the log and turn my body. I balk some more. I tell myself I will have to do this if I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on this log. I turn around. Slow, fast, clumsy, elegant… I wouldn’t know. I do know it wasn’t as hard as I made it up in my mind. Success.

But wait, there’s another transition in store. I need to push my feet against the log and sit in the harness – belay like, except there is no wall, no rock to bounce your feet against while coming down. I stall again at the transition. Finally I sit in the harness and push my feet against the log. Again, it’s not bad at all. I’m back on the ground. I realize it was not too difficult, none of it was. Except that I had time to hum and haw before each transition, and I had somehow managed to make it harder.

Long story short, none of these things were particularly difficult or challenging. But the gap before each transition and the mental acrobatics I had filled that space with, increased the apprehension before the next thing.

I wonder how many things in life are easier than we make them out to be. And how many transitions, do we never overcome…