The Space between "No Longer" and "Not Yet"

“How did I get here?”

I am standing on a tangled mess of roots sticking out of a narrow dirt path. The ground is uneven and I feel off-balance. I have spent the last hour hiking up a steep mountain trail and now find myself surrounded by tall trees, their sinewy bodies closing in from all sides. I catch glimpses of blue sky and sunshine through the narrow empty spaces between the trees. I long to feel the sun’s warmth on my skin but it is dark and cold among the trees. The sun is setting soon. I am overcome with anxiety that time is running out.

“Is this a dream?”

I am calling out a name but there is no answer. My voice sounds small and weak as it echoes through the forest. I clear my throat and tries again. It does not work. It just starts to sound more desperate. But I cannot stop because I am more scared of the silence than the vulnerability in my voice. It is a futile attempt to look for someone when you are not sure if you are in the right place. This feeling is all too familiar and I begin to doubt whether I am not dreaming after all.

If I am dreaming, this must be the most vivid dream I have ever had because I can make out every little detail. Pieces of yellow cloth tied around random trees. The particles of dirt on my hands when I pick up a stone. The trees bathed in a muted glow of light. The trail of burned undergrowth from a forest fire.

As I stand there, trying to tell apart dream from reality, a lone runner stumbles along the path. I am startled by his sudden appearance and can just barely respond to his greeting. I watch as he jogs off into the distance. I wait until I can no longer hear his footsteps to begin my search again by calling out a name I have been reciting like a mantra for the past hour.

As the name bounces against the trees and fades into silence once more, I realize it is not the name I call out in my recurring dreams. In that moment, I know I am not dreaming and the tears start to fall, hot and wet against my cheeks.

“Who am I becoming?”

My first instinct is to stop myself from crying. Even though it is deserted for now, anyone could be passing by this trail at any moment. The thought of someone witnessing my emotional meltdown is horrifying and extremely embarrassing to me. How will I explain to them why I am crying alone in the woods? Where do I even begin my story? Will they understand when I tell them I am lost but not in this space?

It is as if a dam has broken inside me and all the emotions I have tried to keep at bay come crashing in waves. I know the way out of these woods yet I feel lost. I know my friends are waiting for me yet I feel abandoned. I know that I can ask for help yet I have never felt more helpless. I am on solid ground yet I feel like I have become untethered from reality.

I am floating in the liminal space between “no longer” and “not yet”. While trying to leave behind the “what was” and moving on to the “next”, I have lost a sense of who I am in the “in-between” stage. Now, alone in the woods, unable to go back and unsure of where I should head next, I am finally forced to face myself.

The trees watch over me in silence. They do not ask why I am crying. They do not say everything is going to be all right. They do not judge when I finally admit out loud that I am scared. I am so tired of resisting and I give in to the voice inside that says, “Let yourself be.” 

I stop fighting. I let my tears fall on the ground and watch as the roots absorb my pain. The feeling of helplessness against the overwhelming tide of emotions slowly dissolves into a sense of relief. I feel lighter than I have felt in months.

I did not find what I came to look for in this part of the woods. But I found something I needed to carry on. At this moment, I do not know what the “next” place for me will be, much less how I will get there. But it helps knowing where I am.

This is not where I plan to stay but I am no longer in a hurry to leave.