emergency rooms are one of the most frustrating places in the world. no one ever wants to be there (although, an old boyfriend and i used to joke we went on bi-annual dates there: once for pneumonia and once for a slashed wrist). i certainly did not plan on spending 2 hours of my Sunday in one.
but they do provide a great place for waiting. everyone is waiting. waiting impatiently. waiting with angst-- angst, angst, angst. waiting, waiting, waiting... for her name to be called so she can move forward, or get something fixed, or just be seen.
and as i sat there, i realized i was also waiting, although i wasn't quite sure for what...
in a way, i fear that i am waiting for the life i want my life to become to start... and i'm afraid to make the move (literal and figurative) to start it. yet.
i'm very good at making excuses.
so, i sat there in the emergency room making excuses to myself (in my head, of course).
and i've spent the other half of the day being frustrated at choices others have made for me.
it's the fear of the shock that holds you back. ultimately, the only thing you're worried about is the transition from one state to another and that can't hurt you because it's just a state change.