The wait is killing me.
I am poopy. Depressed. Lonely.
Makes me wonder how much stay at home-ness I can take! Maybe quitting my job wasn't such a good idea after all~
I tried to explain to hubs last night that I am not used to feeling useless. I have no direction, no responsibility, no drive.
Normally, this would be wonderful! But that's only because you know it's short lived and you have to go back to work. Not having anything coming is daunting, for me particularly.
I carried a lot of responsibility at work. My decisions changed lives. I had court and trials and attorneys to explain things to. I had to take charge of the parents and the foster parents and the service providers. I was responsible for the outcomes of my kid's lives. Hell, I was actually their legal guardian!
And now, nothing.
And worst of all, it's depressing to think that 6+ years have gotten me no where. I honestly thought that time and those connections would pay off somehow, giving me an 'in' to getting the right kids. Hell, ANY kids. That is a solid smack in the face.
So these days I'm home alone, except for the puppy, waiting. My pajamas are getting extra wear, pup getting lots of attention, e-mails galore going out for a shred of adult contact during my day. I carry the cell phone and the home phone with me at all times *just in case*.
And in my mind of minds I know it will happen when it should, but I can't help but be drawn back to remembering that was my same thought process when doing IVF, which failed. Twice.
So call me poop of the week, because I so totally am right now.
I am going to start painting the upstairs becase you know what they say, things tend to happen at the most inconvenient times~
OK. To add to the poopness I have been checking in the blogs to see how everyone is doing and it seems like all these people are preggers! Congrats to them, very seriously. We all know what a struggle it is getting there and the absolute bliss that it is when successful.
I do not begrudge them one iota, I am just feeling even more sorry for myself.
And if you are STILL reading this you are a glutton for punishment, too, and I hope I have not depressed you, oh innocent reader.