...is admitting you have a problem.
I confess. I stalk the email, hoping for any news from anybody, but especially hoping for news for us. It's been going on for, oh, about two years. There have been periods of contentment, when I knew no news was coming, so I could go about my daily life with just a normal ache in my heart. But the closer things get, the more I long and hope for some good news, and the more insane my stalking.
I can hear, "You've got mail." from any corner of the house. I can be in the basement folding laundry. I will drop everything, run upstairs, and kick the kids off the computer, because "I've got mail."
We still have no news.
It's like waiting in bad weather for your husband to get home. (We had bad weather today.) You look out the window. You pace. All the scenarios run through your mind. You listen for the garage door for a sign of his well-being. You wish he'd call. More looking. More pacing. All the while, you're holding your breath. Breathing easy can't happen until he's home safe. (He's home now.)
I've spent the last two years pacing, worrying, looking, wishing, and stalking. You would think I could get used to it. I can't. You would think I'd have learned patience by now. I used to think I was patient. Now I know I'm not. Shallow breathing is a way of life. I'll breathe easy when Cupcake comes home.
The next email might be the one that says we're one step closer.
I've got to go. I've got mail. :-D
Blessings to you,
I Can't Afford That!
18 hours ago