I’m still feeling…displaced. Out of sorts. It’s like I am on a boat in the middle of a choppy sea, trying to find my footing and my balance. The railing is just out of reach, and I need it to anchor myself to something so I won’t fall ass over tea kettle. But no matter how far I try to stretch my fingers, I just can’t make contact with the cold metal. Each time I move my foot forward, the boat rocks against the hard waves, and I am forced to stumble back, further away from my goal of reaching safety and security.
I’m not just sitting here, twiddling my fingers and waiting for some kind of new update on the situation. I’ve been hard at work, revising my previously published books, communicating with my creative team, and starting new projects. I’ve been trying to jam something into every spare minute, something constructive that will distract me long enough to make me forget that I’m still lost at sea.
Because I still don’t have answers. Everything is so uncertain, and nobody likes an uncertain future.
I’m the kind of person that has to know the plan. I’m really not a last-minute kind of girl. I like to know how to dress, what to expect, and when it will end (that last one is exceptionally important if it’s an unpleasant situation). When things take me by surprise and when I don’t have definitive answers, my anxiety skyrockets.
I’ve had heartburn for the last several days. My wrist is throbbing patiently from my increased hours at the computer. My stomach has been churning unpleasantly for days.
But I’m not giving up, I’m pressing forward. I’m preparing, and I’m not going to let a little uncertainty knock me completely on my ass.