It's cool, I'll wait.
I think I've figured out ways to make the trauma of waiting and uncertainty suck a little less.
I read once that we will spend six months of our lives waiting in line.
But, when it comes to waiting in general, at least in my experience, it’s all of the months. Forever.
Waiting on a miracle, my dream to come true, a paycheck, email responses on important matters, my nail polish to dry, etc. etc.
In fact, the more pressing something is, like me hurling towards financial catastrophe, for instance, the longer the delay.
“Oh, you didn’t get paid yet? Let me look into it.”
[Four days later …]
“Just wanted to give you a heads up, I pinged Charles in accounting, but he’s on vacation for the next two months. I’ll have him get back to you as soon as he returns!”
That scenario actually happened to me, except it was two weeks that felt like two months. My point remains— the more urgent my want or need, the longer I wait. Not always, of course. But more times than I can count.
For the past three months, I’ve morphed into a gym rat and it feels weird taking my fitness routine and my nutrition this seriously, but it also feels really good (and that’s the weird part).
I, of course, expected the weight to melt off like candle wax. In fact, I propose that anyone who works that hard, gets a sweaty butt in public, AND says no to cake, DESERVES to have it melt off. It should be a human right, like voting. But I don’t make the rules or our janky metabolisms, so whatever.
It took three weeks to lose just two pounds. Then I was stuck at that weight for three more weeks. That’s 21 actual days America! Then, I lost two pounds and got stuck there for another ten days. Then a week later, I gained three pounds, and that was a very, very bad day.
But I didn’t quit. And I’ve always quit when it comes to weight loss. I think it’s because this time, for the first time, it wasn’t about vanity. It was about my girls. So I just kept going, because regardless of what the scale said—grass fed beef and a side of broccoli was still better for my body than nachos. And a brisk walk was better than sitting on my lounge chair thumbing through YouTube.
But I wasn’t happy about it!
Then, it happened. I was standing at the kitchen island flipping through a magazine when my husband said, “Dang babe. You look like a completely different person.”
I looked down. “I do?”
I still have a ways to go, but my body has changed. And to get here, I’ve had to get used to nothing happening. Even in the midst of really wanting something, anything, to happen. And kept going when it didn’t. Even if I hit a chute, right after hitting a ladder.
It is a great mystery of life, all this waiting. The two steps forward, three steps back. The chutes and ladders. TD Jakes calls it “The trauma of uncertainty.”
But I believe it has purpose.
Sometimes I think most of my life is waiting in transition—perpetually stuck in a boring room waiting for one of God’s angels to walk in with a clipboard and say “Anna? God will see you now.”
My most epic wait of all was the wait to see a dream realized. I took a risk to pursue my dream, a story I write gets read by tens of millions and I finally think, “I’ve made it!”
Except I hadn’t. The experience was simply bread crumbs leading me into another waiting room. After the buzz died down, the door shut and I was left alone, with a laptop. I wrote quietly. Lonely. Far less viral-y. For the next ten years.
And some people think I got lucky.
Periods of transition, waiting, uncertainty are often referred to as the liminal space. Richard Rohr describes the liminal space this way …
“It is when you have left the tried and true, but have not yet been able to replace it with anything else. It is when you are between your old comfort zone and any possible new answer. If you are not trained in how to hold anxiety, how to live with ambiguity, how to entrust and wait, you will run … anything to feel this terrible cloud of unknowing.”
Then he goes on to say,
“Much of the work of the biblical God and human destiny itself is to get people into liminal space and to keep them there long enough to learn something essential and genuinely new. It is the ultimate teachable space. In some sense, it is the only teachable space.”
Only? WHY THO.
What are we to do about this?
I guess we can either run. Or trust. And learn. Perhaps make the liminal space more tolerable. Maybe even fun.
I’ve learned a few tricks. Really, they’re just survival mechanisms, but I credit them for why I’m still here, doing my best. In the weeks up ahead, we’ll talk about it more.
But I hope if I’ve caught you bored, worried, or annoyed out of your mind – if I caught you with your finger hovering over the “quit” button because you think “This isn’t working!” – you’ll maybe stick it out just a little longer.
Loiter here, in this waiting room with me. Let’s give it a few more minutes.
Who knows? Maybe we’ll learn something.
xx,
Anna
And another wonderful way to support the work is to not only buy her books, but to get a copy for your friends and family to help her mission to spread laughter, far and wide. Thank you <3
Miss anything?
Wanna walk with me? In last Sunday’s Digest, I released the first episode of my latest walking playlist. Consider it some real good and hilarious entertainment while we walk together. Or while you fold laundry. Honestly, it’s whatever. Listen to episode one now.
Don’t forget the Spotify soundtrack I made for us for us while we walk, workout, strength train, or do the dishes. It’s our world, we can do what we want! I like to mix old school with new school. Just roll with it. Listen to our jams here.
Ever feel like you’re buckling under? I wrote a deeply personal, heartfelt post called Buckling Under and the response was overwhelming. If you feel like you’re losing at a real dumb game of Chutes and Ladders in life, you’ll feel seen. Read it here.
I think you’ll also get something real good out of our last question of the week. She sometimes struggled just to get out of bed - how is she supposed to “do her best?” in the thick of it? Great question, and one I tried to answer honestly. Read it here.
And finally on the most popular posts front, I tell a recent tale of having a night terror and my husband’s annoying response to it. All I can say is … wow, dude. Wow. Read my latest vignette here.
Have we met? I’m Anna Lind Thomas, a humor writer out of Omaha, Nebraska. I’m listed as one of USA Today’s top ten funniest women writers, and author of the best selling book We’ll Laugh About This (Someday) and my latest - I’m Not Ready for This. Once you read them, text me (number’s in the back and I respond!). Don’t forget to say hi on Facebook and Instagram.
I went from “Everything’s cool” to “Move your damn cart out of my way before I smash your Hoho’s!” Tolerance and waiting is something you experience and learn from every day. Thank you Anna for being so spot on and causing me to laugh at my ridiculous self who sometimes thinks she created the universe and should be held in high esteem, just because. ♥️
You inspire me to get off my own butt. Your journey sounds just like what mine would/ will be. I just bought 2 copies of your book for a beach trip for my best friend and I. Can't wait to read it!