okay, this is weird.

My tenure committee chair came up to me in the hall and said "I know you're stressed out about this. It's going to be ok. You've worked very hard" and she hugged me.

none of the other faculty have EVER hugged me. (I am sure she would not have done it had she been male, or had I been.)

I will put aside for now the fact that I am not a touchy-feely person and generally do not like being hugged. I will put aside the fact that I am *almost* the youngest member of the faculty (and I LOOK it - I have had several people go "but I thought you were 25!" when I tell them my actual age) and probably the most "vulnerable" in some ways because I do not have a husband or SO or children to come home to and voice my concerns to.

it was all I could do to keep from bawling. I explained to her that it wasn't so much the decision - I mean, I pretty much know it's going to be OK but it's just the waiting.

it's always the waiting that kills me.

I'm ok once I get in the dentist's chair; it's sitting in the waiting room that makes me freak.

I'm ok when the nurse has me in the chair and my arm is swabbed up for the flu shot; it's sitting in the waiting room thinking "holy crap I have come in voluntarily to get an intramuscular shot" that gets me.

I'm ok (after the initial disappointment) when a paper I've written gets rejected; it's walking up to my office in the morning and seeing the big fat envelope from the journal in my mailbox that causes the pit in my stomach.

This week, when my congregation voted on whether or not to "deaffiliate" with the denomination that they have been a part of for more than 100 years, I thought I was going to hurl while the votes were being counted. (we voted not to deaffiliate, for what it's worth)

I'm (even) ok when I hear that someone I cared about who was very sick or badly injured has died; it's the sitting and waiting and wondering what the outcome will be that makes me cry and wail and beat my fists against the wall.

And I just had an epiphany of sorts: this is because I, as a counselor I was seeing once told me, tend to "awfulize". I AM the fillyjonk who believes in disasters. I tend to always expect the worst - when the phone rings late in the evening or early in the morning, I always steel myself to hear that someone has died or is in the hospital. When there is a manila envelope in my mail I figure it's either some kind of reprimand (not that I've ever received one) or some kind of onerous task I must do.

I do not know where this came from. I had a secure and, as far as my parents could protect me from the "bad stuff", sunny childhood. I suspect it's a genetic tendency, something handed down in the DNA from some dour Scots ancestor or an Irish farmer who never saw anything come to any good. In fact, even when I was a child, I was prone to see the dark cloud before the silver lining. Most of the time, I can fight this off, because my life goes well enough that I can kind of ignore the dark corners or laugh off the thought that that odd noise in the attic late at night might be some rodent systematically chewing through my house's wiring.

But right now, I'm super vulnerable. I find myself going all superstitious - I can't stop knitting on a 13th row. Whenever the clasp of my necklace works its way around to the front, I push it back around to the back and make a wish for tenure. I find myself having to knock wood. And I find myself knocking my knuckles on the wall of the hall as a walk - not QUITE counting the bricks as I go, but close (it makes me think of Adrian Monk having to count parking meters as he walks down the street). I have to check up on things - ran back here yesterday afternoon in a panic, thinking I had left my desk lamp (the shade of which could get hot enough to start a fire were it left on for more than 6 hours or so).

I look at these things and sort of shudder, thinking maybe I'm going obsessive-compulsive. The thing is, I never do any of these things under normal circumstances, so I'm guessing it's a stress reaction.

Arrah. The human mind is a strange thing. It is peculiar that contemplating my job future could lead me to count bricks as I walk down the hall, but it does.

I am sure once I have the decision (which I am QUITE SURE will be positive) I will be back to my normal (or at least somewhat normal) self.