Butterflies and heartburn

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“I’m not sure how it is for you, but confrontations and change give me butterflies and heartburn.” I say these words in my head as you look at me with longing.

If you could tap into my being, you would know this…

When faced with the difficulty of making a decision, one that could potentially drive me in the opposite direction of an intended destination – my vision blurs, mouth dries up and my stomach drops to the center of the earth.

To be clear, it’s not only my life’s change that plagues me. But, that what ever happens from this point on will affect you as well.

Putting it off – the crucial decision – prolongs my suffering. And I suffer sweetly, silently and with bravery…

I hope your suffering is not too unkind.

Sweat beads build up around my nose and upper lip, I brave the uncertainty of leaving all things hanging. The suspension; premeditated hesitation let’s me breath in the loss of control. In this moment of limbo, I prepare for failure. I prepare for an unimaginable success. I prepare for the off chance that nothing will change at all.

“What are you thinking now? Have you lost your faith in me? Have I lost your respect? Will I lose things – will I lose?”

And as I stew in the acid burn in my chest, all the while, feeling the gentle motion of unease in my belly – I succome to the nothingness of it all…

Worry breads nothing worth pursuing and hope breads worlds I’ve no wish to lose.

Deep breath – in and out.

The decision is made. Doubt creeps in to second guess my choice. And because I’ve no idea of the implications attached to it – just thoughts and imaginings, no real grasp of the changes – I take the nauseatingly enthusiastic step towards the unknown.

“I’ll to have to answer for this at some point,” I think to myself.

You’ve no confirmation just yet, but I suspect you’re aware of what I’m leaning towards.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow and perhaps in tomorrow’s tomorrow, I’ll have the words to express what’s written in my eyes.

“Forgive me. And thank you.”