The "Physics" of waiting

There's a part of finishing something 'big' that people don't really talk about. Not the stress or the deadlines, but what happens after everything is done. After the fact, there's this immediate sense of relief because you've been working toward that one moment for so long. You're tired, so you rest, and for a while that feels enough. But then, after some time passes, it starts to feel a bit 'strange' for lack of a better word.

You're no longer working towards anything specific, but you're not fully relaxed either. There's no structure to your day anymore, no urgency, nothing that really needs your attention in the same way. You find yourself waiting for results, feedback, a win, or even just a sense of what comes next.

After I submitted my Master's, I thought I would move quite easily into resting and then figuring things out. And, in some way, I did rest, but I didn't expect how unsettled I would feel in between. There was a period when I didn't really know what to do with myself. I wasn't busy anymore, but I wasn't calm either. Waiting for results made it worse because it felt like everything was on pause, but not in a way that felt 'restful'. By the way, I wrote about rest, in case you are interested to check it out.

A friend of mine recently submitted her PhD after working on it for years, and basically has been busy with her academics for the past '10 years'. When we spoke about it, she described something very similar. It wasn't the relief people expect; it was more like not knowing what to do with herself afterwards. After being busy for that long, having that structure suddenly disappear doesn't automatically translate into rest.

This isn't just an academic quirk; I believe that it’s a universal law. Our lives are often designed around these seasons of waiting. We also live in a world that expects us to be 'on' or 'off', with nothing in between. We think that the moment we finish a big task, we should instantly feel like the next version of ourselves. But science shows us that everything needs a buffer zone. Whether you are waiting for a job offer, moving to a new city, or just trying to find your footing after your busy season, I believe that the mind and body sometimes also need a moment to catch up with your new reality.

At some point, I started thinking about it in terms of something simple from physics. There's this idea of inertia that things don't just stop instantly after they've been moving for a long time. And that made sense to me. If you've been working at a certain pace for months or even years, your mind doesn't just switch off because you're done with said thing. Even if your environment changes, your thinking doesn't immediately follow.

I've also been thinking about it in a completely different way, though, something like 'wine fermentation'. When wine is being made, there's a stage where it looks like nothing is happening. You've done the work, the process has started, and then it's just left to sit. But that doesn't mean nothing is happening. It just means the process takes time, and you can't rush it without affecting the outcome.

That waiting period after finishing with something big feels familiar. You've done what you needed to do, but you're not immediately in the next phase yet. You are somewhere in between, and that in-between space isn't always comfortable. I think I always expect everything to feel clearer once I finish, but it doesn't always work like that.

I guess this somewhat connects with the rest, but not in the same way. Rest feels something I needed physically. This feels more like something I'm still trying to understand mentally.

I don't think there's anything wrong with this space, even though it feels unfamiliar. It just seems like part of what happens when you've been moving at a certain pace for a long time and then suddenly stop. And maybe waiting isn't really about nothing happening.

Maybe waiting isn't really about nothing happening. Maybe it's just part of the process that isn't always obvious while you're in it.