Third Gear

May 23, 2011. I am moving to my new apartment today; I'm nervous about that. I am also transitioning to the Intensive Outpatient Program, which is four hours/ day, seven days a week. I'm nervous about that. I don't yet have a bed to sleep in and my furniture is in my Uncle's basement; I'll get it all figured out, but I'm nervous about that, too. This is real life, third gear, when you click into a place that can carry you all the way up the hill. However, I'm neither in second nor third right now. Instead, I'm stuck somewhere in between.

If you've ever driven a car with a finicky gear transition, you know how it feels. Put your foot on the clutch and move from low left to middle right, but instead of clicking smoothly in, there is a grinding sound. The car lurches against its own momentum. You push harder on the clutch, really jam it in there, and jiggle the gear shift a little. Jiggle, jiggle, and then, hoorah! Third gear's in and you haven't rolled back down the hill.

You can probably remember exactly how being in this position feels because it's kind of scary. In that moment you panic. The harder you try to jam the gear in the worse the grinding. You will always remember feeling the lurch, the push back, and the fear, as the hill seems to grow in front of you. Just thinking about it might make you afraid, even if its actually a smooth transition.

For the last few days I've been stuck in this odd space between second and third gear. I am proud of all the successes I've made; it's like emerging from underwater. Some things about treatment have begun to wear on me a little bit- I'm excited to eat normal meals and not "process" my every thought. I'm motivated to do all those things I'd under-prioritized in my ED, like gardening and spending time with friends and painting my toenails. And I think that I can do this whole living thing, challenges and all.

The resistance is there, though, and I think that's only natural. I've been hiding from the world because the world can be a scary place when someone wants very badly to live it "right." Although this analogy have focused on machinery, I know that it's natural because the same incidence happens in yoga. If you've ever done yoga, you know it: You've been in a position for a few moments when your muscles begin to moan and ache, maybe even shake a little. We call this "hitting your edge," and this is the time when our breath and acceptance is the only thing that gets you through. This is also the time when our coping mechanisms, negative or positive, come into play. At this point I always begin to start planning or worrying. I start thinking about the next hour and the one after and the one after that. It's just like panicking between gears. Mindfulness is being aware of those coping mechanisms. If they are negative, then all you can do is accept your humanity and sit through the pain. If they're positive, then you can remember and use them again the next time.

In all this discussion of resistance and aching and panic and coping, there is no mention of getting rid of the transition. It's impossible, see. There will always be a second gear before a third gear. You will always have a muscle a little too tight, a muscle that shakes before it loosens.

So, I'll breathe through this transition, jiggle second to third, and give my muscles a little time to warm up. I'll get there when I get there. I think I'll just click into place.