The Freakout

We've been waiting for weeks to hear if we would get the job offer in Vermont. Talking in hushed tones about what might happen. Slowly convincing ourselves that the offer wouldn't come. Making plans to stay for one more year.

And we got it. Or he got it. The dream job. Tenure track. I know people who have taken years to get a tenure track offer and he got one first shot. First interview. First pick.

And I'm totally freaked out. The theory of quitting and moving across the country is an entirely different beast from the reality. I'm supposed to be working but my heart is pounding too loudly and I can't concentrate over the noise. If I look down I can see my chest moving with the internal hammer. I'm full into the freakout zone.

Sure I want the house and kids. I love the idea of living in the country. There is something pastoral and graceful in the image of being a professors wife. But the reality of quitting my job to move to the country to be a housewife never seemed that real. Until today. All of a sudden I love my job and the security it brings. Financial and emotional. All of a sudden I find the idea of using my MS in Finance to manage household expenses to be an enormously daunting task.

Christ.

I'm sure this feeling of panic will fade in a few days. It needs to. My heart wasn't meant to pound this loud or this long. I feel kind of dizzy. It feels a little like love. Or heartache. Something that doesn't easily fall into the bad or good category. Full on freakout.