It seems like I’m always waiting for something; the phone to ring, a husband, a job, a lottery win, a better body, excitement…something. But always waiting and wondering when it will be my turn.

I might be done waiting. I’m not saying that I’m giving up, but I’m really, really tired of waiting.

I’m the woman who is early for everything. Always. I’m talking a good half hour. I’m that friend that circles the block or parks nearby in order not to be the first one there all the time. I’m the one that shows up to meetings and sets up camp in a prime location prior to the meeting organizers stepping foot in the room. I’m the one on the plane that clamors to be first to my coach seat, get buckled in and settled prior to first class getting their first drink. Yeah, I’m that one. It calms me to be early. It’s ironic because that means I’m perpetually waiting.

With all this waiting, you wouldn’t think that the other kind of waiting would be stressing me so much, but I’m seriously about to have a full on panic attack. I’m not sleeping. At night my thoughts are filled with thoughts of losing my house, selling everything I own, depleting my savings and being homeless. I literally feel as if I’m being suffocated when I think about it.

I’m on all the job boards. I’m reaching out, networking. Doing things that don’t come naturally to me and nothing. Not even a nibble. I can’t afford to just wait this time. I can’t just sit back. I have to ACT.

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