That's what's going on in my head right now as I sit paralyzed in this black chair, immobile due to complete distraction, indecision, and ambiguity.
What's the cause of this freak out, this time? We're awaiting some decisions... some decisions that aren't ours, that we thought were already decided, and yet they aren't really. There's this whole "invitation back" thing we're waiting on. It's a thing supposedly everyone has to go through when they leave from full-time work here, back to America, and then hopefully back again. But apparently it's a process that has never really technically been followed through on before. And so, being that there's a first time for everything, we are the first time.
This wouldn't really be such a big deal, except that we've been asking this question, this "Are we invited back?" question for several months. This question has always been met with a nod, an "I don't see why not," an "I'm sure it won't be a problem" type of answer in the past. But in the last few weeks, this question has been met with a "Let's wait and see," or a "We'll discuss it at the meeting," or an "I wouldn't worry about that right now" type of answer.
So can you see the freak out?
Reasonably, logically, I think it's good. They should take their time. And so should we. Let's really discuss things and see how things have worked and come together and make a joint decision affirming the future. Paranoid me sees things slightly differently. I mean, there was affirmation, and then there wasn't and then there was silence. I mean, we're packing up our life here! We're saying goodbye without being able to tell people when/if we'll get back. We have to actually share with our children what our plans are beyond next week. But instead, I'm having to claim this ambiguity once again as my silent partner in crime.
Oh Ambiguity, won't you ever leave?
So today I sit in a slightly chaotic household, a child crying upstairs due to some teething and sleep-deprivation issues. I'm looking at toys and wondering where I should put them: in storage, in a suitcase, in a plastic bag to take to the charity shop. The girl, who has never taken well to change, I worry a bit for. I hate to see the sad, crying child return, who would just roam from packed room to packed room whimpering during our last move. I'm trying to be stable for her, keep things as normal as possible, when inside I feel the anxiety rising in my chest and causing me actual physical pain.
Do we have any alcohol in the house? Or maybe an inhaler?
I need a chance to breath and believe it'll all be OK.
Ok, back to reason and logic. Looking back at this blog over the year(s) or so, I see many freak outs and unanswered questions that, in due time, God answered and calmed and provided and settled. He's there in it somewhere, waiting for the freak out to end and faith to begin. Perhaps I'm just not learning this lesson yet. Perhaps there isn't even a lesson. Just the next step in belief.
The wee one still cries. Perhaps he too senses my paralyzed state of ambiguity and anxiety. Can probably taste it in the breast milk or feel it in my biceps when I carry him around the house. The girl, though, for now, appears oblivious. Guessing I should just sit still then, and wait, and relax... nothing has to be packed or done just yet.
6 weeks till D-Day.