Back in time to leave

Hi! I’m still here. So much has been going on in my world: I’m about to start a new job. I’m about to go to Europe for three weeks for my belated honeymoon. I have a stunning two-week-old baby nephew. Two of my best friends just bought a beautiful home. Another just returned from two-plus weeks in Poland, and I’ve missed her desperately. Yet another is talking about the future: homes, children, and the long-term with her husband.

Everything feels big. Everything feels important, so it’s hard to write anything down because it’s impossible to do it justice. I could write a whole post about the weight of little Hugo on my chest on Monday night: his snuffling infant breaths, his easy sleep, the swell of love I feel for him, the way he makes me realize how precious my other nephew and nieces are to me.

I could write a thousand words, easily, about the wrenching uncertainty of accepting a new position within my company for which I am neither trained nor certain of the responsibilities. (After accepting the post, my first meeting with my new manager involved some discussion of our work with departments that I hadn’t realized this position would be working with. I got an email welcoming me to the Operations team, of which I hadn’t realized I was now a part.)

And thousands more words, thousands and thousands, about the endless travel planning for a trip now only eight days away. I am, as many of my readers know, obsessive about planning. I have an eight-page document that I’m leaving behind in a binder for our house- and catsitters (our best man, a neighbor, and my older brother) – how to use the remote, don’t move the angle of this fan, internet password, a schedule of when to feed the cat and change her water and move the car, a map of the area with points of interest identified. If that’s what it takes for me to leave the house in someone else’s care, imagine how thorough I like to be in planning my own movements, thousands of miles from here!

And many thousands of words, undoubtedly, about my dangling work with diagnoses. Yesterday one of my specialists called and left me a voicemail: Hi Teresa, we’ve gotten a test result back. I’d like to talk to you about what it means and how we’re going to move forward now. I called back; she wasn’t available. Called back at the end of the day: I’m sorry, she had a really busy day, but she’ll get back to you tomorrow.

Waiting is what I’m best at. Waiting is not what I’m best at.

That’s not to mention the big wait: I’m not seeing the rheumatologist until after the honeymoon. Partially because my primary doctor only referred me a couple weeks ago, when we found out that the test result we thought must have been a fluke was in fact even worse on the retest than the first time around. Two weeks ago — there was no time to get an appointment before the trip. But also partially because I’m terrified that whatever he tells me will hang over my head, and I desperately want three more weeks of ignorance. For once, I’m not sure that I want to know.

So this is a personal post. Mostly I intend for this blog to be other things. Crafts, and recipes, and Pinterest-able tip lists. In all rights, this post should be about travel planning. What not to forget to tell your  housesitter. In more detail than you really wanted! The to-do list of before you leave for Europe. What to buy on Amazon. Why you should be calling your insurance companies. Which train tickets to buy in advance. What to figure out: the store where you’ll buy lube (dammit, TSA liquid rules!); where you can safely get currency while abroad; where to do laundry when you’ve decided only to bring a carry-on, no checked baggage. So You Think You Want To Leave Your Laptop At Home For A Three-Week Trip But You’re A Writer And What Will You Do With Yourself Aaaaaargh.

But those will come later. For now, I’m just welcoming myself back. Embracing the bigness of everything, and telling you that I know it will be okay.

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