The good friction of the in-between

On being in transition.

December seems the perfect time to write about endings. In just a few weeks it will be a new year, and we’ll be looking forward with hope and excitement, a little bit of anticipation maybe even, for everything that will change — because it surely will.

As we’re caught up in pre-holiday shopping and planning, or wrapping up projects at the end of the fiscal year, we may want to gloss over the past year in a rush to get to the office Christmas party.

And we may shy away from taking a good look at the things that have failed or that have left us depleted, burnt out, or even unhappy.

(Full disclosure: Having this conversation with yourself is good at any point during the year. But the end of the year has something so final and purifying about it, better time than any.)

That can take the form of letting go of behavior that is harmful to ourselves or others. Or letting go of people we no longer feel connected with or love for.

Letting go of beliefs that no longer serve us.

Letting go of entire life chapters.

Letting go of wanting it all. Or letting go of wanting the wrong things.

The intent of letting go is only the first step. (Bummer, right.) It’s the actually moving into something new, adopting new behavior, learning new things — that’s the hard part.

That’s the transition, the friction between things endings and things not yet beginning.

Life follows no project plan

Have you hear of the saying “Life is a journey, not a destination”? I’ve found this to be (frustratingly) true. We look for a clear starting point and end destination. It would make so many things easier if it worked that way.

But it doesn’t.

Some things do have clear starting and ending points.

Most things are messy, though. Confusing. Opaque. Not linear.

Sometimes they’re a back and forth. It’s easy to have a starting and ending point with a job. Or a romantic relationship. Or a city.

But with a few things in life, it’s quite hard to recognize when something is really over. Especially when it’s about beginning a new chapter, when you’re reinventing yourself, exploring what else is out there. It’s really hard to identify that one ending point.

An ending contains many endings

Truth be told, most of our stories are chapters or experiences that don’t have a clear-cut ending. They merge into one another, fluidly, like a river meeting the ocean.

I’ve been at an ending point for a few years now — or maybe they were multiple ending points, like sprints. I can say this with such clarity because I have had numerous new chapter moments. And every time I have another, I realize, “Wait a minute. I’ve already been here. I’ve already said this to myself. But now I feel it much stronger.”

Exactly one year ago, I was at this point already. I was chatting with someone I had just met a few months earlier. We connected over shared views and business perspectives. We read the same, very specific books. We just vibed.

She said to me “You’re just in a space of transition” — and it clicked.

That one word, transition, changed my entire outlook.

I went from “What’s next” to “I need to experience this transition to begin moving toward what’s next”.

I handed in my resignation (something I was planning to do anyway) and left my job last spring.

But I was still in project management mode: Something had ended, the next thing could begin now. Seamless transition into … what exactly?

Turns out, a transition can have many endings within an ending.

Finding good friction in transition

For someone who loves reinventing herself, diving into unfamiliar territory like a gutsy explorer, being in transition is the most frustrating limbo I have found myself in in my short 37 years.

The only thing that soothes my frustration is that I learned one crucial thing:

Endings are a process.

They are not as clear-cut as quitting a job (which would be sooo much easier).

They are an exploration in themselves.

So, here we are in December, exactly one year later, and I am still navigating that transition. (I’m pretty sure it’s the same one.)

I do feel like I’m moving toward an end point, or at least clarity, mostly thanks to the fact that I am making it as hard as possible on myself: I am digging into my dissatisfaction, trying to understand why I am feeling the way I am feeling.

I’m also beginning to imagine what the alternative could look like outside of what I know.

In the creative industry, we call this ideation, which comes after identifying and understanding the issues and before mapping projects and executing on them.

I have to keep reminding myself that my life is not a project. And that that’s a good thing. There’s so much learning to be found in the messiness of becoming, in phases that bleed into one another and push us beyond what we know.

This month, as we approach the new year, I am not making clear-cut resolutions. I am merely acknowledging that I am still in transition, working toward something new.

(But if that new something could finally become clear in 2023, that would be fab. Because transitions are exhausting — really!)