I'm writing this week's Gentle Shifts from somewhere along the road between Ontario and Vancouver Island.
After months of planning, sorting, packing, purging, and saying goodbye to familiar places, we're finally making our way west.
For the next little while, life looks quite different.
Our belongings are packed away. We're living out of suitcases, sleeping in different places each night, and spending much of our days watching the landscape change through the car windows.
There's something both exciting and unsettling about it.
We're no longer where we started, but we haven't yet arrived where we're going.
And I've been thinking about how much of life happens in this space between.
The uncomfortable middle
We tend to think about change in terms of beginnings and endings.
We decide to make a change.
We imagine where we'd like to be.
And we look forward to the day when things finally feel settled.
But there's a whole lot of living that happens between those two points.
The time when old routines no longer fit, but new ones haven't yet taken shape.
When we're doing things differently, but they don't feel natural yet.
When we know we're moving forward, but aren't entirely sure what life will look like when we arrive.
I think this is true of so many of the changes we make in our lives.
Whether we're working toward a different relationship with food, learning to respond differently to stress, navigating a relationship change, or entering a new stage of life, there's often a period when things feel unfamiliar.
And that unfamiliarity can be uncomfortable, even when the change is something we've chosen.
The temptation to wait until things settle
I've caught myself thinking about all the things I'll do once we're settled:
I'll get back into a regular routine.
I'll cook more of our usual meals.
I'll establish new habits around movement, work, and taking care of myself.
And there's nothing wrong with looking forward to those things.
But I've also been reminding myself that I don't have to put everything on hold until we arrive.
I can take care of myself here, too.
It might look different right now.
Maybe it's choosing to get out of the car and stretch a little longer at a rest stop.
Taking time to enjoy a meal rather than treating it as another task to fit into the day.
Noticing the changing landscape instead of spending the entire drive thinking about everything still to be done.
Or simply accepting that this isn't a particularly structured season of life.
I don't need to recreate my usual routine in unusual circumstances.
I just need to find small ways to support myself within the circumstances I'm in.
We don't have to rush through the middle
I wonder how often we treat the in-between stages of our lives as something to get through as quickly as possible.
We tell ourselves we'll feel better when things are resolved.
When we've reached our goal.
When life becomes more predictable.
When we've finally figured things out.
But what if we didn't have to wait?
What if we could acknowledge that things are unfinished, uncertain, or unfamiliar...and still find moments of ease, connection, and enjoyment along the way?
That doesn't mean we have to love every part of the journey.
Some days are tiring. Some stretches feel long. And sometimes we just want to get where we're going!
But perhaps we can make a little more room for the experience we're having right now, rather than always looking ahead to the next destination.
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A Gentle Reflection
Is there an area of your life where you feel somewhere between what was and what comes next?
Perhaps you're navigating a change, working toward something important, or simply feeling that your old ways of doing things no longer quite fit.
Consider asking yourself:
What am I waiting to feel, do, or enjoy until things are different?
Is there a small piece of that I could allow myself to experience now?
You don't have to have everything figured out.
You don't have to be where you hoped you'd be by now.
And you don't have to wait for the next chapter to begin before you can take care of yourself.
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As we continue making our way west, I'm trying to remember that the journey isn't simply the distance between two places.
It's part of the experience, too.
Until next time, here's to finding a little more ease in the space between where we've been and where we're going.
Warmly, Shelley