on letting go

This morning I woke with a headache. The kind of headache you get from sleeping 5 measly hours. If I could have three wishes one would definitely involve the ability to function, energetically, happily and productively on only a couple of hours of sleep a night. I would love that. To be like Oprah.

Okay, check that. Reverse it. I do not want to be like Oprah. In fact, I can`t stand Oprah. My point is she doesn't sleep a lot. Which is the point.

I think.

Although.....she is rich........

Oy.

This past week has been a whirlwind of activity and emotion. I thought once the house sold the world would hear the great thud that would indicate the burden unloading from my back.

But the world was quiet. My brain refused to give it up. I held onto that burden with all my might for fear that if I let it go everything would come crashing down ten times harder.

I would not survive that.

And then, out of the blue, all of a sudden, we found a new house in this strange location that simply seemed too good to be true. And I waited for that to crash down on me. Because I am so used to waiting now. Waiting is what I do. And if there is anything prolonged stress has taught me, it's that waiting for bad things to happen and then having them happen is much less devastating than waiting for good things to never happen.

Nothing bad was happening and so I dared to believe, for a split second, that things were coming up Catie for once. And then I took a deep breath. Inhale.

And released it. Exhale.

The world was still quiet.

And then I did it again and again and again. Inhale. Exhale. The world? Still quiet.

The man took me to dinner, a risky move, to celebrate this most fortuitous turn of events. I sometimes gauge my stress level by his. When he isn't doing so hot I feel weighed down extra hard by my own concern over our situation coupled with his. I watch his face. I see him thinking. I pay extra special attention to what he is up too, I see him trying to keep me from stress, like a protector. I see him trying to work it through, on his own, without having to pull me in. Like I'm not already all in. I see him come to me because he needs my help and I see that it is the last thing he wants to do. I see it, the weight of his responsibility.

At dinner, I could see that all the heaviness was gone from his face. And then he said to me, "we're getting our lives back."

And just like that, I let go.

The great thud.

I couldn't believe my ears. We are getting our lives back? What does that even mean? All I know is that if the man believes it then it must be true.

Then I slept. Not well though, because sleeping is not one of my great talents. And I woke and the world was still intact. Our house was still sold. No one had stolen the new house from us. I felt my grip on our situation tighten. Could I possibly accept it? Optimism. Relief. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should panic some more. Or maybe I should make it real. Test fate. We announced that we were moving and it spread like wildfire. Making it very real. Very fast.

And nothing came crashing down.

Is this really happening? I asked myself this over and over and over.....

I'm still asking it actually.

Over and over and over........