Waiting is no fun. There’s the eager anticipation of hearing the phone ring, the breathless rush to grab it when it does, the inevitable letdown that it’s not a job offer even if it’s someone I really want to talk to. And then there’s the moments when anxiety crashes down on me, how it crushes my chest so I have to take a few short breaths before I can catch a long one again; where I can feel my heart beating faster and it feels like it’s taking up too much space in my chest; when I can feel the blood drain from my hands and I know if I try to stand up at that moment I’ll feel weak and lightheaded; why sometimes I get very very quiet and then make too much noise to cover up the silence and the thoughts.
In another three weeks everything will be different, but that’s not my story to tell yet, in this place in this time. It’s just an unknown, some empty variable to confound me when I try to fit the rest of the equation in place.
I have to do better with the not thinking about it too much until it gets here, living in the rightnow instead of the tomorrowandnextweek. I have to learn to appreciate what I have in the moment I have it, or I’ll be looking back one day at a lifetime of what’s-going-to-happen-next instead of here-I-am.
Truth, though, is it’s getting to be where the proving must be, an uncomfortable place where we are either people who can make-it-work-no-matter-what, or people who will fall apart once-and-for-all. And this is truth.