God of Transitions, Please Help Me with This Doozy

I’m standing in a transition — a liminal space.

It’s as if I’m standing in a doorway. If I look behind, I see the past. If I look ahead, I see the future. For the moment, I’m here with lots to do before moving on.

Look behind. I spent the last six years in the Milwaukee area. During that time, we became empty-nesters and finished a project in Haiti. I wrote/published/marketed a book documenting that experience, and began learning the arts of public speaking and story telling.

Look ahead. My partner and I will travel abroad for 3 to 12 months. Mike and I hope to go around the world, visiting a little bit of most of the continents.

Did you adequately describe this space for your readers? You think it’s this romantic place of metamorphosis where you turn from caterpillar to butterfly, but really, it’s been hell for you!

Lonely in that Transitory Tunnel

Transitions are solitary — I’m leaving some people behind as I move towards others I don’t even know yet. So, I channel Janus — the Roman God of transitions. He watches over changes when he isn’t helping with the beginnings and ends of war, and time. Janus has two faces — one to look to the past, the other to look to the future. That the Romans gave transitions great importance reassures me that this transition is important.

Important? That’s the understatement of the year. It’s the key to your next 12 months of happy life. Forget something “small” like turning off a recurring gym membership and you’re doomed to carry the world on your shoulders!

It’s Definitely “Something”

A transition challenges us to reach our goals without going crazy. It feels tight, constraining, needing discipline. So much unfamiliar to do in so little time.

Some people (like my partner) manage transitions with difficulty. He needs something to ground him: we move furniture into unfamiliar places, pack away favorite clothes, kiss goodbye dear friends. I see his discomfort; his stress. Two weeks ago he had a cough. Last week, he couldn’t sleep. His face screams for familiar.

I’m usually ok with transitions. This one took some getting used to as I rewrote lists and used copious yellow stickies for directions. We lived for three weeks with my same piles on the laundry counter. I couldn’t work through them; but, I couldn’t move them either.

Are you kidding? Don’t you remember your post in which you took sex and drugs to the stressed-out max?

Eventually, something clicked and both Mike and I deaccessioned with gusto — tossing, Good-willing, Craigs-listing, garage-selling, giving it away. Mike left short stacks of books with other party-like favors on the tops of his colleagues’ desks. Yes, I kept my yellow poodle stuffie. But non-essentials flew off our shelves, popped out of plastic storage tubs, and slid from the backs of closets. I wondered why did we harbor micro-wave popcorn, when we have no micro-wave?

Friends and family don’t take up space. They do take time — something in short supply. Lengthy evenings are few. Getting together to share a cup of coffee or a quick chat on the phone must do. We can always Skype after we’ve left when there’s more time.

I tuck the business card of someone I’ve just met into a familiar pile atop the scanner. Remind myself to digitize anything paper for the future and store it on my laptop.

I cannot believe you kept that yellow poodle stuffie. If the God of Transitions had done his job well, he would’ve deep-sixed that stuffie.

It Ain’t Over Til ….

I can see the end date to this transition — here in the near distance. The movers will come August 29. The plane leaves for Copenhagen Sept 12.

The physical result of this transition must be one carry-on bag and a small purse. The mental one is to get onto the plane with some enjoyment and excitement.

There ends the transition. I step out of the transitional space and start the future: three to 12 months with no debt, no responsibilities, no place we have to be, nothing we have to do.

Did you even consider your “future” may be just another TRANSITION to the next part of your life and one more reason to buddy up with your Roman God Janus?
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Was your last transition heaven or hell? Any suggestions for how to handle them effectively?

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Please give a heart or an opinion, good or bad. All conversation is appreciated.

Judy O Haselhoef, a social artist, story-teller, and author of “GIVE & TAKE: Doing Our Damnedest NOT to be Another Charity in Haiti,” blogs regularly at her website, www.JOHaselhoef.com.

Copyright @2016: If you’d like to use any part of it (up to 200 words), please give full attribution and this website, www.JOHaselhoef.