The news from Mimi's surgeon was not what I was/we were expecting. Shell-shocked...I was just counting on her best option becoming a reality. And then, about 2 hours later, Sweet Man received a call that he was being sent back to Wichita. So now the decisions need to be made.
I preface with this: We chose this job for Sweet Man with its lifestyle and its challenges.
Do the kids and I go to Kansas?
When do we leave?
How long do we stay?
What do we need to get there and to stay there?
And if we stay "home," where do we rest our heads?
Who takes care of the house/grass/pool that we still own while we are gone?
Where is the best place for the kids?
Who helps my momma? And am I any help to her if I stay?
Where do You want me to be? And where do others want me to be? (I'm learning that the latter is less and less important than I used to think it was.)
I have this habit of falling asleep for about 15 minutes and then waking to be ultra-conscious and ultra-anxious. Friday night, it all came down on me. Too tired...my guard was down. I fell apart as the waves of worry kept crashing. Sweet Man discovered me and held on. I'm falling apart often these days. Have you noticed?
In his wisdom, he didn't say much and let me blubber on. At last, he gently suggested that we ride this last little bit of "house on the market" push. If we return from Wichita and no one has purchased our house, we will take it off the market and move back in for our "home" times.
That decision had a profound effect on me...diffusing my anxiety. Whether or not it actually happens...it was so good to hear him say what I've been suggesting for a while. I jumped into this life decision with both feet and eyes closed, following him. And for a few months, I've been trying to catch up with him or pull him back to where I am. I need an anchor. I want to stop drifting. I just want to be. I need an Anchor to hold me.
But I kept crying a while longer.