At Least They're Committed

I’ve done it again. Inadvertently overwhelmed myself and subsequently retreated back under the rock from whence I came. It’s just too much right now and at least, I guess, I can recognize it and crawl away for awhile. I just don’t want to play anymore. Not right now, anyway.

“They didn’t call,” is how I answered the phone last night. It was my sister. “What?” she said. “They were supposed to call today but they didn’t,” I said. “Oh, I didn’t know,” she says. “I just wanted to know how it went.”

It was horrible. I knew it was going to be awful but it was much worse than I could even imagine — and I can imagine a lot. A humiliating, painful, uncomfortable, brutal, extended violation . . . and did I mention humiliating?

My husband called twice yesterday. My mom called once. I just started laughing. “Hear anything yet????” her voice was high and tense. “Ha! No. Every time the phone rings I think maybe it’s it,” I said. She apologized, saying she’d thought of that, but she just was so worried. When you’re a parent, you just want to take your children’s pain away; to take it on yourself and save them from it. It hit me then that this might be harder on her and Dad than on me.

So I distracted myself by Tweeting all my excellent new contacts pretty much all day and all night while I was putting together my presentation on last week’s wicked-ass New Media Expo for today’s staff meeting. But then I started to get confused and lost and somehow I ended up with hurt feelings, though I can’t remember why, and I realized I was truly fatigued and it was time to go away.

They still haven’t called. I don’t know what that means. Can these tests be inconclusive? I’ve already been through three rounds of tests. One would think that would do it.

No matter, until they call — and probably after — I’ll keep myself safely tucked under this comfy, cool, dark rock. I like it here. It’s safe.