Are you living inside the waiting?
The endless cycle of waiting for what comes next
Welcome to Am I Cured Yet? I’m so happy you’re here—my sincere thanks for hanging out in my little corner of the internet.
My problem is I’m always waiting for something.
I’ve waited to start cancer treatment and then to finish it. I’ve waited for my work visa to arrive in the mail, then for the perfect job, then for some glorious moment when I could be my own boss. I’ve waited to afford a bigger rental apartment, then approval for a mortgage, then the appearance of our dream house on Zillow.
I wait for the next cheque, the much-needed holiday, the positive pregnancy test.
I don’t want to spend life living in the liminal space of what just happened and what will surely happen next, but somehow, I live here all the same.
And, as life is so fond of doing, things keep cropping up. Unexpected, difficult things that extend the waiting until the moment I can come up for air.
I get my period. I have a shit night’s sleep. The dog is sick again.
Bad news. A friend dies. An unprecedented wildfire.
Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just not good at managing my emotions. I’ve always felt like I have too many of the darn things—or maybe that I have the same amount as everyone else, only in stronger, overwhelming doses.
But after everything I’ve been through—the breast cancer, the loss of my best friend, the endless shame, the waiting, waiting, waiting for the pain to pass—it sometimes feels like I’ve used up all my allotted emotion for this lifetime. Like I’ve been thrown out on the other side of the big stuff, and maybe now I am just numb.
Is this what resilience feels like? I wonder. Is resilience the act of surfing our waves of joy and despair, taking both as they come?
Is resilience telling oneself, “Who can say if this is good or bad? It is just a thing that is happening.”
Maybe my cancer will come back one day, as it has for some of my friends, and I will die. Or maybe I will live a long, long life, and all that will remain of my illness will be the bad memories and the silicone implants.
I can’t see the future, so I must wait for one or the other.
And I ask you, friend—do you know if this is what life is supposed to be like? Do you also feel like you’re stuck in a waiting room? And any minute now—surely, any minute now—a voice will say, “We’re ready for you,” and who knows what will happen next, but at least you’ll no longer be sitting where you were.
I’m at my wit’s end of living inside the waiting.
And still, I wait.
I wait for lullabies in the middle of the night. Silly games played a hundred times over. To wait, wait, wait, for the little one to grow.
Who will they be?
Will the world be kind to them?
What dreams will they, too, wait for?
Have you ever found yourself stuck in the waiting room of life? How do you cope with the uncertainty and the feeling of living between what was and what might be?
Thanks so much for reading! Please hit the heart button if you made it all the way to the end; it really helps me out :)
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I’ll be back next week—with more to share. Until then, thank you for reading, and take good care of yourself :)
Emma
xx
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Welcome to Am I Cured Yet? I’m so happy you’re here—my sincere thanks for hanging out in my little corner of the internet.
You’re Not Stuck, You’re Just Growing Wings
Welcome to all my new subscribers! I’m so happy you’re here. I usually send weekly posts, but life has been a little hectic recently… more on that below. I’m looking forward to getting back on track now that things are settling down.
When you remember me, picture me drinking white wine in the sun
Welcome to Am I Cured Yet? I’m so happy you’re here—my sincere thanks for hanging out in my little corner of the internet.
OMFG THIS. The waiting. It’s so relatable. This post reminds me how much time I’ve also spent waiting.
Waiting for my father on visitation weekends, always arriving late.
For the grades to be returned from teachers.
For the college acceptance letter.
For the day I was finally married.
For the doctor to tell me my child would live.
For more evidence from my husband that he sincerely loved me.
For the day my divorce was final.
I suppose waiting is an inevitable part of life. Waiting for the train. Waiting for the rain to stop. Waiting for the rains to arrive.
As much as I used to hate being in that liminal space, I now realize that the discomfort HAS taught me resilience. It’s also made me more creative.
In the darkest days of Covid, while waiting for freedom and answers, I launched an online coaching business and finally (after 6 years!) finished a book.
I’m 56, and I’ve been making more peace with waiting these days. I used to feel more reactive to the world and beholden to its power, waiting for “good things” to happen. Now, I think I try to lean in to the waiting periods with less fear and more of a sense of, “Ahhhh, yes, the waiting shit again. How am I going to fill my time?” Waiting, I suppose, has taught me to multitask, to search for gratifying activities to pass the time. If nothing else, it’s taught me to turn to my writing and expressing my discomfort. When I share that writing and connect with others, I feel less helpless and alone in that waiting room.
Looks like we’re on the same page, my beautiful friend.
Oh I so identify with this waiting room of life. My stinky cancer has returned so I’m not waiting for that anymore…
Each day, attempting to live not wait and to turn the upside down world of cancer downside up!
In solidarity 💛🤍✨