Mental Health Matters: Life in the in-between

I have recently been going through several normal, albeit challenging, transitions in my life, which have given me the opportunity to think about what we do with the unknowns in our lives. You know, just basic things like where my income is going to come from, or how I will pay for my health insurance premiums this month. Just minor questions in life. Seriously, though, this has become increasingly interesting to me, given how much our thoughts inform our mental health. I am going to take a little detour here, and if you can hang in there with me, it will all make sense by the time we are done!

Neil Peart, the legendary rock drummer and lyricist from the Canadian band Rush, is still today, posthumously considered to be one of the most talented percussionists in progressive rock and roll history. Perhaps of all time. Highly literate and philosophical, he was referred to by his fans as “the Professor” because of his likeness to the professor on Gilligan’s Island. His drumming is still highly revered because of, among other things, his technical exactness and proficiency, as well as his stamina as a musician. He had taken himself from well beyond an ordinary drummer to being an extraordinary percussionist and musician and philosopher. At one point, he had a 360-degree rotating drum kit that would move past him as he played different parts of the kit.

I have long admired his musical talents; however, I have just as much admired how he thought and challenged himself.  Over time and with patient study, he came to think about his drumming in a way that emphasized both hands playing independently, which created a unique rhythmic interplay. His approach focused on individual hand independence, or the concept of two hands talking to one another. Pretty cool, right? Each hand’s melody, harmony and rhythm support each other.

This has helped me understand a bit more about my own life journey and career. How the different parts of me inform how I think about my life in general. How I think about the challenges I face in life powerfully shapes how I approach those challenges. In my case, I have been a professional social worker for over 35 years. My professional identity has powerfully shaped how I approach the normal challenges of being a parent, friend, sister and neighbor, just to name a few. My career is not just a part of me, separate from the others.  There is a similar kind of interplay between the different parts of me, as well as between how I think about things and how I live out my life.

A second concept that I learned from Neil Peart is that of the in-between. He attended as much to the spaces in between the drumbeats as he did to the beats themselves. The silences. The beats have such certainty, crispness, such decisiveness. And then there are those silences. His attention to this came through in the phrasing, transitions and mystery of his music. Neil was on to something that the Psalmist suggested in Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.” A sanctuary of sorts. It is a mystery. And sometimes, that is all we can do. Be still and know that God is God. Sometimes it would be best if we started from there instead of using it as a last resort!

The lyrics of his music often explored existential themes of self-discovery, the search for meaning and the challenges of human existence. Now that’s a lot of unknowns. The spaces in life where one feels lost or unsure, but where one can also grow and transform because of that in-between space.

In his personal life, he experienced profound loss and grief. Within a short period of time, he lost his daughter to an automobile accident, and within the year, his wife to cancer. In response, he created space, silence, a sanctuary of sorts. A 55,000-mile motorcycle trip around North America. He made a space in the in-between, created a transition, to be able to live in the unknown.

There are portions of our lives where we believe we have much more certainty than in others. As human beings, we have a need for some degree of certainty to function through our everyday lives. This creates mental stability and predictability for us to live the mundane. We don’t have to think about all the details because we take it as certain that we will buy groceries, pick the kids up after school, keep a doctor’s appointment, and the list goes on.

I sometimes wonder if our culture has created such a need for certainty in our lives that we miss the opportunity to also build our relationship with mystery. In my own experience, as well as what I observe from others, I have learned that we have a very narrow margin of tolerance for the unknowns, or mysteries, in life.

You may wonder, what does this have to do with mental health? By focusing on the silences between the beats of his music, Neal Peart’s work creates a space of mystery.  A place where we can investigate unknowns, think of possibilities and more importantly, experience things that we never thought possible. When we are so locked into what we believe we know, we shut out the possibilities that our creator can see, but we cannot.

This brings us to concepts that can be really frightening at first. Transitions by themselves imply lots of uncertainty and risk-taking. My current transition involves letting go of one career of over 35 years and transitioning into a new iteration of my work. It involves a dream of what may be, with all kinds of unknowns and uncertainty. There are days when I can only see where I need to plant my next footstep, because my vision cannot extend any further than that.  I am clearly in an in-between space. What exactly do these spaces look like? A few from my own experience are…

I have just been told that the pregnancy I am carrying is not viable, but now I wait until my body is ready to let go. The waiting and the languishing in grief seemed eternal. Grieving the loss of a dream of who my child might have been in a culture averse to talking about loss in pregnancy.

Or, I have just had a biopsy, but it will be seven to 10 days before I find out the results. I am confounded by this timeline. Surely with today’s technology and science, we can know results sooner than seven to 10 days! My mind is teased into going to all kinds of catastrophic possibilities that can paralyze me. All my mental health hygiene practices are tested to their full capacity.

Transitions, or in-between spaces, are usually full of “I don’t know.” Mystery. The unknown. For many of us, our first response often is, “I don’t like not knowing.” Or better yet, “I’m no good at not knowing.” Or, “I hate mystery.” Sometimes, however, I also become weary of having to “know” all the time. I have come to think about it as having run to the limits of my own knowing and understanding, and now it is time to find sanctuary in the not knowing. I don’t have to know everything.

Like the space between the beats. It is the act of letting go with one hand, and not yet sure what I will reach out to with the other. It’s a bit like jumping off a cliff. It can be frightening, unnerving and unsettling. The irony in my case, I chose this mystery. I decided to embrace the quiet space in between the beats. So, I have been thinking about how I work through the in-between spaces. Frightening. Unnerving. Unsettling. My challenge has been to think as much about how I approach the space in between the beats as I do about the beats themselves. I have found that I do best if I get quiet in these times to figure out what the space between the beats has to teach me. Or simply put, what happens when I rest in knowing that God is God? When I cannot tolerate the “in-between space," I am likely not going to get to the “what’s next” question.

I have also found that how I treat the in-between spaces impacts my mental health. Can I deal with the unknowns and still manage my anxiety? Can I adjust as I go along and learn more about the possibilities without falling into a deep, dark depression?

You may also be in an in-between space in your life. Perhaps you are experiencing a reduction in force at work. Or you are facing unknowns in a medical diagnosis. Maybe an important relationship is shifting beyond your control. Perhaps you already know the next beat. You, too, may be fearful. Unsettled. Unnerved.

If so, I invite you to consider this as an in-between space. A quiet space. A space of mystery and not knowing. A place of sanctuary. Where we let go of the pressure of having to know. In doing so, it may change the “What is next” question for you as well.

Have questions you’d like to ask Shirley? Message her at oasistherapyservices@gmail.com.