The Wisdom Of Waiting
Have you ever experienced the dissonance of knowing better, yet still doing what is familiar? I know I have. Many times. And while some situations require more than the single impulse of realization to undergo a full change, many times the answer to the dissonance is much simpler: I don’t have the right words. I don’t know how to say things, how to name what has changed internally, how to ask, declare boundaries, clarify, question. And so I am stuck in an in-between space where the old is outgrown, but the new doesn’t fit yet.
If I think about it, for a long time I have been doing things a certain way, and was sure that it was, if not the only possible, then the only available way of doing them. Often I haven’t seen others taking a different path either. I haven’t seen it, I haven’t done it, I haven’t even imagined it. But now that I have gone through an internal change and can see new possibilities, the question is: how do I get to them in practice?
I call this existential emigration. I have existed in one reality, with its language, rules and customs, and now I have moved into a new one. I definitely am in another land now, but that doesn't mean that I immediately know the new dialect, rules, or even if the stores stay open on Sundays. I simply have no choice but to fall back on the language I already know and exaggerated gestures to help me navigate. As someone who has gone through physical emigration, I know how life-shattering this can be. I may possess all the knowledge of the world, yet must revert to simplistic language—and still be misunderstood. I may do things I believe were proper only to find out I have offended. Every move and every task takes enormous effort while everyone else seems to be gliding through (they are not actually, but they do spend less energy on what for me is a never-ending drain of simple tasks). This is exhausting, terrifying and irritating all at once. Enough to make me want to stop unpacking and move right back to where I came from—a place that isn’t ideal but certainly is familiar. And sometimes that may indeed be a good choice, at least for a while. But what I quickly discover is that what was once comforting and familiar doesn’t fit anymore. So there I am: unable to feel at home anywhere.
There is a reason moving to a different country is the third biggest stressor behind the death of a loved one and the loss of a job. And I do believe existential relocation carries similar markers. It is at its core a shattering of foundations, a dissolving of a map we used to navigate life. And as such, it deserves a level of respect and grace if we want to navigate it smoothly. So first, let’s remind ourselves to be patient: we have had the wisdom and the courage to leave the old way of being and step into the unknown—this is tremendous work. Second, we should learn to look for help just like we would if we had to learn the way of being in a new country.
Do you remember little travel dictionaries—the ones which don’t touch the grammar or proper spelling, but instead give you ready-made phrases? “How do I get to the airport?” “One baguette, please.” “Which way to the bus stop?” This is exactly what we need in the first days in a new emotional landscape. And even though the reasoning behind actions and words is important, and yes, we do need to look deeper into our relationships and traumas to fully settle, in the meantime life becomes so much easier if we are able to locate the existential exit and say that, “yes, I do want extra sugar in this espresso of a conversation”.
I remember moments when I felt myself truly settling in the US: when I learned that I had to add taxes to the prices at the store, when I got the joke from “Friends,” when I learned what “carpooling” meant. It’s the little things. The same is true for emotional changes: they happen not in the moment of realization, but in the moment we learn the words for it. When I learned to say “this sounds great, I will give you my answer tomorrow” instead of feeling obliged to jump in right away. When a friend told me she had to go “in the well” and be there for a day or two, I knew that she didn’t want any input from me, and I felt honored that she told me, instead of feeling rejected. When I learned to say and hear “yes” and “no” without explanation. When I started seeing that a situation can be funny and sad at the same time
This is how we settle in a new emotional landscape: one phrase, one action at a time.
