When One Door Closes, Another Opens. Coping with Uncertainty.
- 12 hours ago
- 8 min read
My Grampy Was a Very Wise Man. A Terrible Cabinet Maker.
By Sarah Plassman, MSW, LISW-S
Sheesh! And Other Thoughts on Being Human
My Grampy always said:
“When one door closes, another opens.”
He was a very wise man.
Terrible cabinet maker.
And as far as life advice goes, it is a pretty good one. Things end. Things begin. Opportunities disappear and others show up. We lose rooms we thought we would stay in forever and somehow, eventually, find ourselves standing somewhere new.
What Grampy neglected to mention was the hallway.
The awkward little stretch between the door that already closed and the one that has apparently decided to take its sweet time opening.
I have questions, Grampy.
Because sometimes a door closes and another one opens immediately.
New job. New relationship. New opportunity.
Look at that.
Beautiful. Efficient. Smooth.
Five stars.
And sometimes a door closes and...
Nothing.
No new door.
No flashing EXIT sign.
No reassuring little arrow from God saying:
THIS WAY, SARAH.
Just you.
Standing there.
In the hallway.
Holding whatever you thought would happen next.
The Hallway
I think we underestimate how uncomfortable the hallway can be.
It is that strange place where you know something has changed, but you do not yet know what comes after it.
The relationship ended, but you do not know who you are without it yet.
The job is gone, but you do not know where you are going next.
Your child is struggling, and you cannot see how the story turns out.
Someone you love is sick.
You are waiting for an answer. A decision. Grief to soften. Clarity. Something you prayed about.
The old version of life is no longer available to you, and the new version has not quite introduced itself.
That is a hard place to stand.
Sometimes the hallway feels less like a meaningful season of transition and more like the first season of Severance.
Endless corridors.
No clear directions.
Increasing concern about whether anyone actually knows where the doors lead.
Can we at least get a melon bar while we’re waiting?
Sheesh.
Human beings, as it turns out, are not particularly fond of pain or uncertainty.
Which makes sense.
Our brains and bodies are pretty good at learning to pay attention to things that might hurt us. Historically, that has been useful.
Tiger bites Grog.
Tiger bite hurts.
Grog does not pet tiger again.
Excellent work, Grog.
The problem is that our modern brains can sometimes respond to emotional discomfort with that same general enthusiasm.
Something hurts?
MAKE IT STOP.
We like answers. Timelines. Plans.
We want to know what happens next and approximately when it will happen so we can put it on the calendar and emotionally prepare accordingly.
Unfortunately, life rarely checks Outlook before making changes.
So We Start Looking for a Door
When uncertainty gets uncomfortable enough, we often start trying to make something happen.
Anything.
We text again. Check the email. Google. Google again. Ask one more friend what they think. Replay the conversation. Look for signs.
We make a decision just so we can stop having to make a decision.
We go back and jiggle the handle on the door that already closed, just in case it has reconsidered.
Please stop texting your ex.
And if they text you?
New phone. Who dis?
Sometimes we do not actually need the answer yet.
We just desperately want relief from the discomfort of not having one.
Those are not always the same thing.
There is a particular kind of urgency that can show up when we are hurting.
Fix this.
Figure it out.
Make it stop.
Do something.
And when the goal becomes getting rid of the feeling as fast as possible, we can make choices that create an entirely new problem.
We send the text we knew we should not send.
Return to something that was hurting us.
Say yes when we needed more time.
Pick a fight.
Withdraw from someone who cares about us.
Make a major decision before we have enough information.
Sometimes our attempts to escape pain create a second problem on top of the first.
Or we bust down the first available door, SWAT style, simply because we are tired of standing in the hallway.
That is where one of my favorite concepts from Dialectical Behavior Therapy, or DBT, comes in.
Distress Tolerance
DBT includes a group of skills called distress tolerance.
I love the name because it is remarkably honest.
Not distress elimination.
Not distress avoidance.
Tolerance.
Distress tolerance skills can help us get through difficult moments without immediately acting on urges that may make the situation worse.
Which is slightly less glamorous than the skill set I personally would have requested.
But apparently, once again, nobody consulted me.
I’m starting to notice a theme here.
Some problems can be solved.
Some conversations need to happen.
Some decisions need to be made.
And then there are moments when there is simply nothing useful to do right this second.
Sometimes we have to get through the next ten minutes.
The next hour.
The evening.
The waiting.
The feeling.
Sometimes the skill is learning how to stay in the hallway without kicking down a door.
STOP Before You Make the Hallway Worse
One DBT skill is literally called STOP.
Subtle.
When emotions are high and your brain is screaming DO SOMETHING, STOP helps create a little space between the feeling and whatever you are about to do about it.
Stop.
Do not immediately act on the urge.
Take a step back.
Pause. Breathe. Give yourself some distance.
Observe.
What am I feeling?
What am I thinking?
What is actually happening?
What am I being urged to do?
Proceed mindfully.
What action is most likely to help instead of simply giving me immediate relief?
Because sometimes the most therapeutic thing we can do is postpone doing something spectacularly unhelpful.
There is wisdom in creating even a tiny space between:
I feel this
and
therefore I must act right now.
You can be angry without sending the message.
Scared without making the decision tonight.
Lonely without reopening the door to someone who repeatedly hurt you.
Uncertain without forcing yourself to manufacture certainty.
The feeling can be real without becoming your immediate instruction manual.
Making the Hallway More Bearable
STOP gives us the pause.
Then we still have to figure out what to do with ourselves while we wait.
This is where other distress tolerance skills can help.
Give Your Brain a Break
Watch something funny. Do a puzzle. Go for a walk. Read. Cook.
Clean the drawer that has somehow been collecting batteries, expired coupons, and one unidentified key since 2017.
Call a friend and talk about something completely unrelated.
Healthy distraction is not the same as pretending the problem does not exist.
Sometimes it is simply telling yourself:
I do not need to think about this every second of the day.
You can come back to it.
Your brain will almost certainly remember where it left it.
Soothe What Hurts
Music. A warm shower. A soft blanket. Tea. Slow breathing. Sitting outside. Stretching. Petting the dog. Holding something warm.
Use your senses to remind your body:
We are here.
Right now.
In this moment.
Not seventeen imaginary Tuesdays into the future.
Sometimes we cannot soothe the circumstances yet.
But we can still offer some care to ourselves inside them.
Improve This Moment
Not your entire life.
Not the next six months.
Not the hallway.
Just this moment.
Maybe you pray. Imagine yourself somewhere peaceful. Look for meaning. Take a mental break. Encourage yourself instead of criticizing yourself.
Focus on the one thing happening now instead of every possible thing that could happen next.
Sometimes “better” does not mean happy.
Sometimes better is simply:
I made this moment five percent more bearable.
That counts.
None of these things necessarily open the door.
And that matters.
We are not always using coping skills because they solve the problem.
Sometimes we use them because we deserve care while the problem is still unsolved.
You do not have to earn comfort by figuring everything out first.
Faith in the Hallway
Faith does not always tell me when the next door will open.
I would personally appreciate a tracking number.
Your answered prayer is currently three stops away.
Apparently that is not how this works.
Sometimes faith is trusting that I am not alone in the hallway.
That God is still present when the plan is unclear.
That waiting is not the same thing as being forgotten.
Maybe I do not need the entire floor plan yet.
Maybe I just need enough light for the next step.
The Hallway Is Not the Whole House
One of the hardest things about uncertainty is how quickly the present starts pretending it is permanent.
This is my life now.
I will never know.
I will always feel this way.
But feelings are terrible fortune tellers.
This moment can be painful without getting to predict every moment that comes after it.
And maybe resilience is not always finding the next door quickly.
Sometimes resilience looks considerably less impressive.
Not sending the text tonight.
Taking the shower.
Eating something.
Calling the friend.
Going to bed before solving your entire life.
Praying without having the answer.
Giving yourself permission to have a decent Tuesday even though something important is still unresolved.
Sometimes the win is simply getting through the hallway without setting it on fire.
So Maybe Grampy Was Right
When one door closes, another one often does open.
Eventually.
Sometimes it is the door we expected.
Sometimes it is somewhere we were not even looking.
And sometimes there is a hallway in between.
A longer one than we wanted.
I think that may be the part Grampy left out.
The work is not always figuring out how to get out of the hallway as quickly as possible.
Sometimes the work is learning how to take care of ourselves while we are there.
To pause before reacting.
To tolerate not knowing.
To make one difficult moment a little more bearable without demanding that it become a different moment entirely.
And to remember that uncertainty is not the same thing as hopelessness.
The hallway is not the whole house.
There are still rooms you have not seen yet.
And when another door eventually opens, you still get to decide whether it is one you want to walk through.
Grampy would probably approve.
Still wouldn’t let him build the cabinets.
Sheesh.
A LIttle Help for the Hallway
Knowing that you should “tolerate distress” is considerably easier than remembering how to do that when your brain is yelling DO SOMETHING.
Agape has two practical resources you can keep nearby:
DBT STOP Skill HandoutA simple guide for slowing down before acting on an intense emotion or urge.
Distress Tolerance ToolboxIdeas for healthy distraction, self soothing, and making a difficult moment more manageable when the larger situation cannot immediately be changed.
And sometimes the hallway becomes too difficult to navigate alone.
Counseling can give you space to slow things down, understand what is happening, and sort out what needs action, what needs support, and what may simply need some time.
You do not have to know where the next door is before asking for help while you wait.
References
Linehan, M. M. (2015). DBT Skills Training Handouts and Worksheets (2nd ed.). Guilford Press.
Linehan, M. M. (2015). DBT Skills Training Manual (2nd ed.). Guilford Press.
McKay, M., Wood, J. C., & Brantley, J. (2019). The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook (2nd ed.). New Harbinger Publications.
About the Author
Sarah Plassman, MSW, LISW-S, is a therapist and owner of Agape Counseling Center in Centerville, Ohio, and the author of Sheesh! And Other Thoughts on Being Human. Being a therapist has shaped the way she sees people, relationships, pain, joy, growth, and all the complicated things we carry with us.Through her writing, Sarah shares some of what she has learned from years in the therapy room, her own life, and simply paying attention to what it means to be human, with clinical insight, compassion, curiosity, and usually a little humor.
Because apparently, if she goes too long without saying something weird, she starts becoming suspiciously well adjusted, and nobody wants that.
Educational Disclaimer
This article is intended for educational and informational purposes only and is not a substitute for individualized mental health assessment, diagnosis, treatment, or professional advice. The therapeutic relationship and appropriate treatment approach will vary based on each person's needs and circumstances.
