Is it possible to die of suspense? I wonder. Right now, I am waiting on news that will change the course of my fate. For the last few weeks, I've been in a state of agitation, my patience being stretched to its limit, my stress regulators doing what they can to keep me in check.
"Don't forget to breathe," BT keeps telling me. He's been one of my few sanity anchors recently.
I wish I could feel the same easy, relaxed sense of well being that I feel with him all the time, but the real world encroaches. Responsibilities, pressure, decisions, tedium, obligations. So much patience and resilience required. Why was I in such a hurry to grow up and be an adult?
And now, all I can do is try to show some grace under pressure. All I can do is wait. I'm poised at a very dangerous angle, at the precipice of elation or devastation. I shouldn't let it affect me so much, should keep my wits about it, etc. Go ahead, tell me not to care so much. It won't do any good. This is going to have a great impact on me one way or the other, and I can't pretend it won't. I was never any good at playing it cool.