The In-Between
Life's misery at times I've known;
it gives me cause to grieve -
on rocky shoals I have been thrown -
still, I choose to believe.
In spite of all the hurt I've seen
that was hard to forgive,
it's all the moments in between
that make me want to live.
I cling to moments between pain -
good days I won't forget.
I know I will be hurt again,
but I'm not beaten yet.
I want this to be understood
when from this sphere I'm gone:
The in-between days, they were good;
they kept me hanging on.
Perfection wasn't what I sought -
I disappointed too -
and when with anguish life was fraught
I simply muddled through.
I fiercely held to this belief -
some pain is worth the cost.
I learned that what defines real grief
is in-between days...lost.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, April 14, 2020
Life in the time of Covid-19 has exposed us to a disproportionate amount of disappointment. The long days of isolation and self-denial we're experiencing now perhaps help us paint a rosier picture than is merited of "life as it was." I can't speak for the rest of you, but, for the most part, my life isn't that much less exciting than it was in February. The things that made those days better were brief hours - and sometimes only moments - that were scattered among my daily routines; brief intervals in an otherwise fairly mundane schedule that added flavour to my life the same way a sprinkling of salt makes a bland meal palatable.
I miss those small things a lot - a visit with a friend from less than ten feet away, a walk that allows me to daydream, or just admire the scenery, without being ever vigilant about maintaining the proper distance from anyone I might encounter; a trip to the library, or a relaxing browse in a store. These are all small sacrifices.
Of course there are some bigger ticket items that most of us have to deny ourselves right now. We all have family and friends we can't currently visit with, places we want to go, and plans put on indefinite hold. I think what we really miss is the element of certainty that we used to take for granted; the ability to pencil something into our schedule - plan something ahead of time and enjoy the thrill of anticipation knowing that on a specific day in the future we were going to have a treat to look forward to. Presently we look forward to all kinds of things, we just have no idea when they will actually happen.
There are a lot of unpleasant feelings that accompany our uncertainty. Most of us are creatures of habit, and we like feeling like we can control when and how we accomplish our established tasks. Now, for many of us, days are largely unstructured. We often feel bored, vaguely annoyed, or frustrated by our circumstances. Sometimes we lack motivation, and other days we are raring to go, but every project we attempt gets stymied by something needed that isn't on hand, and can't be readily obtained. It seems likely that most of us will look back on our days of social distancing and paint them in bleaker hues than they deserved. These days are apt to provide us with fodder for hard luck stories we will pass on to future generations - our own versions of the infamous "I waded though four feet of snow - uphill both ways! - to get through the pandemic!"
I've had a lot of time to muse on the way we remember our lives in hindsight, and concluded that we exaggerate both the best and the worst of our experiences. Oddly, we pay very little attention to the rest of our lives - the majority of our lives - the "in-between days" that were neither great nor miserable; days that simply were. I've said this before - none of us routinely live up to our best moments, or live down to our worst. Our true selves live somewhere in-between; running in circles and trying to stay in the game out in midfield.
The importance of those seemingly insignificant times has been brought to mind recently, as my grown sons have jogged fragments of memory in long forgotten brain files. My request for Mother's Day was simple this year. Not being a fan of cut flowers, I made a simple request of each of them. I asked both to share their thoughts on the most important lesson I'd taught them. Once again I was surprised by how much impact small, everyday habits and happenings had on their lives. As my older son put it, "Mom, the best lessons you taught me were the ones that you never consciously set out to teach. They just happened spontaneously."
My younger son cited a few very "in-between day" habits that I had nurtured, little things that I didn't give a lot of thought to at the time; pragmatic Mom-ish suggestions for amusements that didn't cost a lot of money. Ways we could spend time together that kept all three of us busily entertained. There were no epic "once in a lifetime" days mentioned in the answers I received, just recollections of things that were a regular part of very ordinary days. There were no heroic moments of awesome parenting mentioned either, just observations of me being me.
In our relationships with others we take mundane days for granted. We keep our eyes peeled for feats of strength and endurance that qualify our nearest and dearest for love and admiration. We endlessly replay, and perhaps overly glorify, the award winning moments when we (or our spouse, child, or parent) really shone. Those podium worthy moments stay with us, and mollify doubts that our lives are overwhelmingly average.
Likewise, we are haunted by those moments when our worst actions, or those of a loved one, caused us to feel hurt, embarrassed, or ashamed. We tell ourselves that those events were too horrifying and egregious to be forgotten. We worry that these crimes mark us as irredeemable. Fear of repeating our misdeeds, and backsliding into behaviors we know we are capable of, make us feel paranoid. The truth is that most of civilization isn't likely to dwell on our mistakes. We may have to live through an unpleasant fifteen minutes of notoriety, but just as surely as our stellar moments are soon forgotten, our crimes will fade from memory too.
What most people will remember about us are the everyday, "in-between" things that probably seem insignificant. They'll remember the times we laughed at their jokes, the offhand hug we gave them on the day we didn't know they needed one, and the hours of humdrum time we logged together. Others are often most attentive to us in the moments we completely forget ourselves - when we are excited, passionate, lost in revelry, or preoccupied by some mundane task. They are filing away memories of the nonsense we spew, and the occasional profound statement that slips out (when neither of us are expecting it!) and the odd little traits that make us who we are. They are absorbing all of the lessons we teach without meaning to - the wisdom we have that is inherently our own.
Every in-between day counts. Our lives are measured in moments the less enlightened can easily miss, or worse yet, dismiss. Whether our relationships fail, or flourish, is largely dependent on our ability to look beyond the best and worst actions of those around us, and cling to the truth that lies in that middle ground. Optimism thrives when we cling tenaciously to the ordinary moments, and allow the dogged days that challenge us to make us vulnerable to failure, to misery, to boredom and frustration. Who needs hope when life is consistently easy? Plants bloom best after a season of dormancy, and perhaps people do too.
Once upon a time I lived a normal life - not too exciting, but comfortably predictable. It was full of people, activities, and events that I took for granted. Then came the pandemic - months of tedious "in-between" days that were not as bad as I'll someday recount them as being. It was a period full of days that simply were; they came, they went, and from the moment I awoke on each day, until the moment my restless mind and body succumbed to slumber, I had lots of unscheduled hours to think about everything - and everyone - I took for granted. I spent a lot of time during those days assessing myself, my life, my relationships, and my feelings, hopes and opinions. It was a time full of lessons I didn't mean to be taught, as I contemplated how the world might change, and how my world would evolve.
There is no "happily ever after" guaranteed at the end of this tale, and the unwritten ending depends on how the tale unfolds between the introduction and the final flourish on the page.
Don't waste this pause between a glorified past and an uncertain future. Make these in-between days count. Use this pause from ordinary life to think, create, dream and love. Promise yourself you will never take "ordinary" for granted again, and will always pay attention to the lessons you are, unintentionally, teaching and being taught.
Never underestimate the power of days "in between."
