hy are transitions so challenging?

Why is there such a massive dip in your energy system after you accomplish a goal?

When you finish a project or when you’re leaving a retreat, you suddenly feel different.

Have you noticed this?

You were on a high. Your mood and enthusiasm were building all along. You were in the flow. You had your focus and attention so captivated that there was no room for it to be anywhere else. Then, as you’re cleaning up, packing things away and moving on you notice that familiar “empty feeling.”

Perhaps there’s a review of how it went going on in your head. Or you’re just wandering around now with no direction. Maybe you’re sharing your enthusiasm with people who were not involved, and they just don’t get it.

And suddenly, somewhat alarmingly, all the good feelings you had are gone.

Down the drain and wiped out. Like nothing ever happened.

In an attempt to escape this void, you compulsively go looking for some familiar coping behavior, whatever that is for you. Perhaps it’s shopping for stuff, overeating, drinking alcohol, talking non-stop, surfing the web, zoning out on social media. Whatever.

Unfortunately, what you fill the gap with is something that will typically result in you getting a beating. Some way to feel bad for what you’ve done. And then you end up feeling horrible. Much worse than before.

Interestingly enough, the gap, or the void, is not inherently a negative emptiness. In fact, it’s a place from which creation and insight typically occur.

However, the voices hijack our attention when we are not consciously directing it. And then we get lost in the habitual, suffering conversation, which is precisely where the voices like to take us.

When I’m coaching my clients through their big projects and goals, I always like to prepare them for “the day after.” That moment when all their lovely enthusiasm and excitement they were building could get robbed. I do the same thing to help my retreatants as they’re leaving to go back out into the world.

First, I warn them that there will likely be the temptation to do some coping behavior as they transition. So I ask them to identify it. If they abandon themselves by talking someone’s ear off, to note that. Or if it’s eating some junk food, to jot that down in their journal. I tell them that’s what they’re going to need to look out for.

I then ask them what they think would support their hearts instead. And then we start listing ways they might care for themselves. I’ll ask them to call out some ideas.

“A walk in nature.”
“Prepare a healthy meal.”
“Some time in silence.”
“Take a nice, long hot bath.”
“Acknowledgement for the good work I’ve done.”

And I scribe what they’re brainstorming on the whiteboard. Until we have a pretty impressive list of alternatives they could use to support themselves. Now they’re armed with Plan B.

I always make sure to underline the fact that IF, on the off-chance, they fall for one of their coping behaviors, despite this proper preparation, to please indulge no beatings whatsoever.

I tell them that it’s a moment to bow to the voices, who may have won this round but not the entire game.

And then recommit by practicing being kinder to themselves than they think they should be.

In this way, they have the opportunity to fill the gap with compassion everytime the voices fill the gap with suffering.

So that transitions now become a time of nurturing and acknowledgment rather than of a time for feeling bad.