Periods of turbulence

The other night my boyfriend, John, and I were reflecting on the experience of building our respective businesses for the past year and a half (side note: two people in a relationship building businesses out of the same New York City apartment is…not for the faint of heart. But fear not, we are still together and still love eachother). As we talked, John said something that really stuck with me. He said, “I have periods of turbulence followed by periods of insane productivity where it all comes together.”

I intuitively knew what we meant because I am coming out of my own season of turbulence. We all experience them. By turbulence, I mean those periods where we embark on something new, we explore, we try something that pushes the edge of our comfort zone. Those periods where we’re looking for something and not quite sure what it will look like just yet. These times are often marked by feeling lost and confused, feeling like nothing is working and never will again. We long for a time when things will be easier and not so terrifying, where we will be the “evolved” version of ourselves that has it all figured out. 

For a lot of my life, I have thrown myself into periods of turbulence, while also trying to rush through them to get to the “good part” where everything is easier again. I want the growth that comes from turbulence, while wanting it all to be over quickly. There have been many times where I’ve lingered in periods of safety and comfort, rather than face the disruption of a new challenge. I’ve approached turbulence with trepidation and resistance. I’ve forgotten that these times have often led to something good.

When I look back on my life and think about the seasons that I am the most grateful for, the most proud of, and the most moved by, they have all been periods of turbulence. It’s gotten me thinking that maybe it’s time that I think about these periods of uncertainty and growth differently. As I’ve thought about that, I was reminded of a letter I came across many years ago that seemed quite poignant. It was written by the actress, Laura Dern, in an open letter to her daughter for InStyle Magazine (Sadly I could not find the original link but the letter has been reprinted here). One line resonated deeply and has stuck with me in the years since. Derns says:

“I want you to know that most of your life will happen in the gray spaces between bliss and heartbreak, between having everything lock into place and having it all fall apart. That’s where the grace is.”

To me, periods of turbulence are those places that exist between having everything lock into place and having it all fall apart. I’m reframing how I view these periods, not only because they constitute so much of the experience of our life, but because, as Dern suggests, they represent something beautiful about how we can evolve and grow. I think of them as the moments that enable us to measure the distance between who we are and who we’ve become…and who we’re becoming.

I’m not sure there is a way to glamorously move through these periods. My experience has been one of moving forward via some combination of coaching, tears, long walks, realizations, cake, humility, solitude, and connection. It has never been glamorous or smooth. But it is in the chaos and the undoing and the transformation of it all that I often happen upon something good. In this last season, I found an inner sense of childlike joy that I have not experienced since I was a very young. I have danced in my apartment for no reason at all. I have learned how to be soft and strong. There’s a hardness and outer walls that I’ve been able to let go, and with that, I’ve been able to let more love and more meaning in.

Now don’t get me wrong. In this period of coming together that it feels as though I’m finally entering, I have a healthy amount of “I’m so glad that’s over for awhile” feeling and the sense that I could use a very long nap. And yet, coupled with that is an intense gratitude. The reframe I want to make moving forward is what Dern calls surrendering “to the flow of the mess of life.” When it comes, I want to greet the next period of turbulence with this: “Slow down, do not rush. Let it be messy and let it be beautiful.”

(Dear John, the next time I insist that I’m lost and it’s never going to work out, you can remind me that I said this.)