The In-Between

The in-between. That waiting room between selves, or situations. It's a strange suspended state in which many things function normally, just not that part of you (or society) that is now under scrutiny—the part that no longer holds true, holds up or holds water anymore.

I talked about outrage a few days ago. The outrage was about coercion, the overpowering, undermining, the subtle and overt ways in which we, the collective, say yes to certain things and no to others. We do it to ourselves, about parts of ourselves, and to others; to whole categories of people, and most definitely to certain ways of being in all people.

We elevate certain people, roles, ways of life, approaches and behaviours. But whenever we elevate, we also force down. So even if you don’t see anything wrong with applauding and rewarding certain things, the corollary is that we send a message that the other doesn't deserve rewarding. The whole system diminishes.

You might not agree with my view (good for you! You get to choose!). It's a view I rarely share. And when I do, I only barely share it. I hint at it. I test the water. If we might disagree, I pull my head back into my shell and stay there. As a result, I have a very safe and stable life built on the rickety notion 'do not stick your neck out'. 

But I wanted to talk about the in-between. It doesn't matter what you're in-between about, really. It's more about what we do in the in-between. That waiting room space when the old ways don’t serve and you don’t know what the new looks like yet. 

The in-between can be terrifying. Or it can be quite a marvellous space. Even though the in-between is the same no matter the situation, for the sake of an example I'll talk about mine.

So in my waiting room I'm choosing between, on the one hand—to do and say things that might “please people” (for want of a better phrase)—and on the other hand—being my full self. 

There are two things that happen in this waiting room, this place where my Self is working out the way forward. 

Firstly, memories come up of all the times I displeased people and paid for it. Uncomfortable, embarrassing, awkward, painful memories. Often of being small, being at school, and being afraid. Then more memories come up—all the times as a teen and young adult that I continued with those 'pleasing' behaviours—relationships, jobs, encounters with strangers. Ick.

These aren't completely new memory flash-backs. These are the kinds of memories that pop up for all of us sometimes. The ones we move to quash or distract ourselves from. The ones there waiting for us when we wake in the morning, like an ambush. Or the kind that annoyingly and randomly appear when we were actually having a good time, dammit. 

What I've learned from the hugely valuable time I’ve spent with Marion Rose is that the memories aren't here to be pesky. They're not random. The answer is not to think of something positive instead. The memories are here to serve. 

The memories are back because that young self still has not had their feelings heard, and there will be no rest for them (or us) until they have. They are like ghosts not yet laid to rest. Parts of us are living in purgatory. 

So there is healing to be done. Feelings to be aired, situations to be felt into and, if we want the healing part (and not just a rehashing), then we can do that in the presence (real or virtual) of a loving person. Someone who can really hear us as we complete that emotional experience, without needing to fix or advise. 

Secondly, the other thing happening in the waiting room is the future Self beginning to flex its new muscle. I say 'future self' because this is who you get to be from here on out. But honestly, our future self is just US, as we were born, perfect and complete. So its a future-but-returning-to-our-original-self kind of us.

The waiting room is dark. Not spooky dark. Just can’t-see-yet dark. And we're not here to wait. We're here to walk. We've come in the door marked 'Past' and we're heading across the room toward a door marked ‘Future’ (if only we could see it). We’re walking away from the old and toward the new, even if we don’t know the way. We move ourselves toward it. It’s not a static waiting.

There is furniture in the room, by the way. So we navigate clumsily, with our hands stretched out in front. Which does not save us from the coffee table at shin height. Or the lego on the floor, the open cupboard door or the skateboard inconveniently in the way.

But there is another way to navigate this waiting room. Do you know the game Warmer-Cooler? You take a step and someone calls out ‘warmer’ if we’re heading in the right direction, ‘cooler’ if we’re not. Every step takes us either closer to or further from where we want to go.

A step closer to our true self? Warmer! A move that leads us back to the old ways of being? Cooler. But who is it yelling out the clues as we head across the dark waiting room? We are. Ourself, talking to our self. 

Intuition. Our own true voice, our conscience, our barometer, internal compass… whatever we like to call it.

People-pleasing obliterates intuition, by the way. People-pleasing packs intuition in a case and sets it out on the road for a truck to run over. Every person pleased at the expense of our true self is another set of treads on the case.

But do you know what obliterates people-pleasing? Intuition! Huzzah!

My intuition never left. Goodness knows it was hard to hear for a long long time, but it stuck around whispering whatever it could and one day I heard it. Every whisper heard and acted on strengthens the sound of her voice. Intuition is like a muscle. I don't know much about ordinary muscles, but I believe they grow stronger through regular use. It’s just like that.

I can navigate a dark room with intuition. I can sense my way forward. Intuition can tell me what I can’t see yet. I don’t know how it does it, I just know that it does. 

Different ways of knowing, including intuitive knowing, is one of the things I mentioned above, that some people aren’t comfortable with. It’s one of the things not rewarded; it's ridiculed, even. 

It’s a part of myself I play down, and outright hide from some (oh wait, not any more). Intuition is, in fact, how I find my way forward on most things. I feel like I should say that I use rational thought too, weigh options, make sensible decisions using ALL the information…but I don’t. I stopped with all that rational thought stuff some time ago now and I much prefer life this way. 

My intuition takes account of all the information. Everything is already weighed up and considered, no pro and con list required. I intuit the way forward, and ALL of it has been taken into account. The way forward is just suddenly, perfectly clear. Like a lightbulb.

How lovely then, that I happily rely on intuitive knowing in this waiting room, at this in-between time. How perfectly story-book. Intuitive knowing will guide me out of the dark created when I was forced to leave it behind.