Transitions: Disorientation

Summer/Fall 2024

These few weeks, every member of my household is experiencing a transition in addition to the seasonal change. My husband started a new job, after being unemployed for over six months. His onboarding involves some travel, so his transition is being felt on many levels by all of us. My oldest child started middle school yesterday. Even though it’s her base school, there are only a handful of classmates from her elementary school with her. My youngest just had a birthday and started fifth grade. He is the first one out of the four of us to attend the same elementary school for more than three consecutive years. Our dog is decidedly geriatric and some evenings his breathing will become so labored we wonder if he is about to die, or if we need to take him to the emergency vet. So far, it keeps evening out and he has a senior pet visit tomorrow.  

Finally, last week I finished my twelve-month position in the VA (Veterans Administration) Healthcare System. While I continue to lament that it required so much of me that I could not write here regularly, it was also a deeply transformative experience. From the beginning, I felt disoriented. The structure was different. The electronic charting system was different. Instead of meeting patients while they were in the middle of an acute event, I was meeting them weeks, months, and even years after, and walking with them as they sought to continue to process and make meaning of their experiences. Likewise, I worked to make meaning of my own experiences.  

Stories have a beginning, middle, and end. The author sets the stage; here’s life how the characters know it. Then there is conflict or a problem, which intensifies to the climax of the story. Last, there is a resolution; the characters learn a new way of being in the world. Life has changed, and they are usually still coming to terms with it when the story ends.  

Franciscan friar Richard Rohr calls this sequence of events “the wisdom pattern,” of order, disorder, and reorder. Old Testament professor Walter Brueggemann simply says that orientation, disorientation, and re-orientation are normal “seasons of life.” In fact, he writes that “...the loss of control of our lives (disorientation) is the necessary precondition of new life (new orientation)” (Spirituality of the Psalms, p. xi).  

Growth is necessary for life. Without growth, if there is no change, then there is stagnation, which will eventually lead to death. At the same time, growth is disorienting. Even expected change can still be unsettling, simply because it’s still change. Consider new middle schoolers and high schoolers, where the transition in schooling is normal and natural. There are still unknowns which unsettle us. As human beings, we tend to resist disorientation and change. We like knowing our way around and what to expect; that’s what’s fun about being the oldest grade in a school. We like feeling competent and confident and on top of things.  

The word “disorient” comes from 17^th century French, and literally means “to turn from the east.” The east is where the sun rises, but the sun doesn’t stay in the east. In order to follow the light, in order to go about your day, you must disorient yourself, turn away from the east and toward the west, in order to grow and live. Disorientation is a natural part of life, even though it is uncomfortable to feel disoriented. Yet it is not just natural and normal but necessary in order to survive. It’s necessary in order to grow. And, if you, like me, are in the midst of major disorientation, then rest assured that life will re-orient and there will be a new normal.  

It’s a cycle of order and disorder; normal, disruption, and new normal, that eventually will be disrupted and lead to another new normal. It’s important to not stay in the disruption, don’t settle down there or get caught there. Likewise, don’t ignore the disruption or pretend it didn’t happen. Instead, learn from it. Make meaning from it in ways that are life-giving and honor your experience.  

In my disorientation, I have plans for my new normal and I’m excited about it. My children will settle into the new school year and my husband into his new job. Our dog will continue his decline; he’s twelve years old and that’s normal and natural. We can make his last weeks and months happy ones; he’s had a good life with us. Transitions involve disorientation; it’s the problem or conflict in the story that you have to figure out how to resolve, or maybe just live through. While not every ending gets neatly wrapped in a bow, if you’re still disoriented, then the story isn’t over yet.  

Our dog on our back porch, hanging out with everyone. With his pack is his favorite place to be.