Worst kept secret!

I have a secret.

The worst-kept secret in the world.Many of you already know, but for reasons I can't quite explain... I just couldn't write the words here until today. I could in other places, but just not HERE.

Argh.

Let me cut to the chase...

If your remember, this time last year S. and I were in research mode for domestic adoption. Well, we managed to examine every recess of every local agency last Spring, and by June of 2010 we had an agency, a wonderful case worker, and about a billion items added to our to-do list. As of October, 2010 our homestudy was complete and we were officially granted "waiting" status.

Yes. We are pre-adoptive parents.

So, back to the disclosure part. This is not a secret, of course, but knowing there were so many readers (cyber and IRL), I didn't want to divulge because not everyone in our real-lives knew of our plans. It's much like that weird space in the fertile world for infertiles. Those who have experienced the challenges of infertility wouldn't dare announce a pregnancy prior to the 4th month.  Go ahead and chuckle, because we ALL know exceptions exist (how many of you can write a book on that? raise your hand!) but bear with me on that thought.

Bygones.

...that's sort of where my head is on this. The last thing I wanted was someone in real-life carrying the message to random people in our circle, and those people telling friends, and so on. We are excited about it, and so is David. We are equally as petrified. Walking that line has proved daunting, so there was an odd comfort in knowing that we had this big secret that wasn't public knowledge yet.

And, to be honest. I was very nervous to write this here. I've struggled so much in having "hope" in my life again, and this blog had become a diary of failure. Some days, I couldn't bear to look at the archives staring at me on my front page. Years and years of dashed dreams. What if I added to that sorrow? Adoption is also a risk, and not every story ends the same. What if I fail again??

I decided that this new chapter in our lives, completing our family and taking steps toward our dream doesn't have to be pushed to the back burner because of my own fears.

At the same time, this place won't morph exclusively into an adoption-themed blog. Sure, I may post something now and again, but I have other outlets for my writing on this topic. This place will remain the story of my family.

Having said all of this, I also came to the realization that there was just no downside to spilling the beans.  It became a ridiculously silly hang-up on my part.  I am just darn tired of living in the shadows, and you all, as my support, need to know.

So there you go.

A new chapter already begun, and lots of memories to come.

I promise not to hold out on you any longer.

Pinky swear.

Walking Dead? meet my friend, Bob

2011 has been somewhat of a horror movie so far. Anything that can go wrong, has.

My humor, which is my saving grace when I'm stressed, has taken a beating of epic proportions. I am finding it hard to even crack a smile.

Work has not let up. I am panicking at the thought of having to stay in my current role. It's a long story, but let me net it out for you... I pursued a dream job in my current company that I *almost* received, only for it to fall through.  I did this after I refused to interview for a promotion in my current area that would have been a done deal. I made a leap into the unknown, brave at the time, and the joke was on me. I'm now stuck in a job with a scarlet letter on my chest... and no new job in sight to free me of the bridges I inadvertently burned. Professionally burned, mind you, but damaged nonetheless.

Meanwhile, S. Is having his own woes, and there's little I can do. I can't even get into it. It makes me cry.

The stress in our house is reaching maximum overload. Stress makes me sleep. And eat.  And mutter one word phrases and unidentifiable sounds. 

Much like a zombie without the blood and guts.

In an effort to regain some semblance of order, I decided to do what I do best... find control... somewhere.   For the 1874627th time I embarked on a new diet lifestyle change. The diet is a no-brainer, but I am continually befuddled at my inability to create any lasting exercise routine. Last week I met with my personal trainer, Bob Harper. Yes, from that TV show. Did I mention he came in a box?

I had high hopes opening my new BL Challenge game for the Wii (a Christmas gift from me to me). I booted that bad boy up and my mad exercising skillz were put to the test.

I am an oaf, it seems. Bob booted me from his test and suggested I take a remedial course on learning to breathe before entering his world. Then I attempted to set up a profile and come back the next day to beg Bob to train me. Turns out I needed a fabric tape measure to record the size of my neck and my insanely large hips. among other things. And I don't own a fabric tape measure. Who owns a fabric tape measure?? Heck, I'm lucky I even own a scale that hasn't reached the garbage can. Why don't they include a freaking paper tape measure in the box? I mean, really... Is that too much to ask?? A slip of paper????

Further demoralizing, my weight flashed on the screen mocking me. And then I sat down on my Wii board and cried. Bob did not even console me because my screen was locked AND I didn't have a tape measure. I turned off the game and bitched and moaned for an hour.

The week has gone downhill ever since. And... I am pretty sure that I have broken up with Bob.

I have control of nothing in life.

Not one thing.