In the Interim

You are in the time of the interim

Where everything seems withheld.

The path you took to get here has washed out;

The way forward is still concealed from you.

“The old is not old enough to have died away;

The new is still too young to be born.”

--John O’Donohue

John O’Donahue’s poem, For the Interim Time—excerpted above—was published in 2008, long before the coronavirus pandemic upended our lives and future plans. Managing “in-between times” has always been a challenge, whether the uncertainty was caused by wars; natural disasters; job, relationship or financial losses; or personal health crises.

Navigating those times when no path forward is visible causes great distress. This isn’t because we’re weak or emotionally flawed; loathing uncertainty is an adaptive response. In fact, our brains are hardwired to reject not knowing.

Your Brain on Ambiguity

The human brain has been called an “anticipation machine“: we use past experiences and new information to predict the future. We plan. Without reliable information, we can no longer effectively prepare for the future; this contributes to anxiety.  

If you were asked to choose between two doors—Door #1, which results in definitely receiving an electric shock, or Door #2, which results in a 50% chance you will receive a shock—which door would you choose? If you’re like me, you think this is a no-brainer; you would hedge your bets and choose Door #2. The research suggests, however, that choosing to get the shock may be more beneficial to your mental health.

Researchers, who devised a similar (but way-more sophisticated) experiment, found that those subjects, who chose Door #1 (the certainty of a shock) were much calmer than those who chose Door #2, which resulted in high levels of stress.

The takeaway is that we can better employ our coping and planning strategies when faced with certain adversity than we can with uncertain adversity or the prospect of impending doom.

In other studies, researchers discovered more stress among those who anticipated job loss than among those who had already lost their job. I imagine you can relate to this finding. From my own experience, I’ve discovered that the reality of a situation was more tolerable than the stories I manufactured about what might happen.

You may have observed your brain going berserk when you’ve been faced with deciding between your own doors: #1, #2, or even #3. Once you’ve decided to decide, you likely felt better. Even when we make a “bad” decision, we feel relief. When deliberations become painful, no choice is a bad one.

Tolerating the Unknown

What we do know is that some of us have a higher tolerance for ambiguity than others; regardless of our levels of tolerance, the interim is usually not a comfortable place for us to land. None of us can predict what the future holds, that’s for sure, but we can help ourselves better tolerate the not knowing.

Although we probably don’t need a research study to show us that increasing our tolerance for ambiguity increases our happiness, many such studies exist. During this globally high stress time, we’d likely settle for simply decreasing anxiety. Happiness, whatever that is, can wait.

In 1962, Stanley Budner developed the Tolerance for Ambiguity Scale. Since that time, the construct has been updated and revised but remains principally supported by research. Certain personality attributes have been correlated with ambiguity tolerance or lack thereof; the characteristic most relevant now is anxiety.

In theory, if we can tame our anxiety, we can better tolerate this interim time. According to Buddhist philosophy and practice, accepting the notion of impermanence and playing in the playground of the present promote increased tolerance for ambiguity (although the Buddha’s teachings don’t specifically address the tolerance for ambiguity concept).

Impermanence is the foundation of Buddhist teachings, though mindfulness and meditation get more air time. To believe we can step into the same river twice is pure folly. What we now realize is that life as we knew it a few months ago has forever changed.

I remember a time when catching a plane meant merely walking to the gate and boarding an aircraft. That level of simplicity would seem absurdly dangerous now. Likewise, I suspect we’ll soon be disbelieving that, at one time, we casually went about shaking strangers’ hands.

Learning from Others

We can all learn from recovery programs regardless of the form or severity of our own addictive behaviors. (For example: addiction to having the answers can cause great distress, given its impossibility.) Twelve-step programs are heavily steeped in the practice of taking one day at a time, one hour at a time.

Letting go of control is another basic tenet of twelve-step programs. We have little control right now of when we’ll be able to resume our routines or return to work (if we’re lucky enough to have work). Both the big picture and the small details of the next version of our lives are blurry.

When I start tightening my grip, I look to the writings of wise souls who preceded me. Viktor Frankl, neurologist, psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor is one of those enlightened souls. Among Frankl’s most famous quotes is: Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation.”

Meaningful Moments

Finding meaning in present day activities is generally thought to be good for one’s mental health with the added bonus of increasing one’s tolerance for the unknown. When we think about finding meaning, a sense of overwhelm can envelop us.

Seeking meaning may seem too big to tackle, especially now that we’re largely confined inside our homes. But a meaningful activity can be as small sending a message or calling someone to check in. It can be really listening after you ask: How are you doing? It can also be taking care of yourself so no one else has to.

In the interim, when the past has vanished and the future is hidden, all we have left is this day, this hour and this moment.