Waiting is hard. When waiting for the results of a medical test or a decision that may determine our fate, the minutes can seem like agony. As much as we try to get that deadline out of our minds, how many days until we hear tends to sneak back into our consciousness.
In a recent American Psychological Asociation podcast, Kate Sweeny, a professor of psychology at the University of California, Riverside, states that “waiting combines two challenging states of mind: Not knowing what’s coming, uncertainty, and not being able to do much or anything about it. So, a lack of control.”
As a writer, I feel as though I’m constantly waiting. Waiting to hear from a magazine editor, or two, or three, on articles I’ve pitched. Luckily, or not, I can assume if I don’t hear from them within the week, they have passed. Literary journals have even longer wait times, as much as four to six months. I’ve trained myself to hit the Submit button and forget. If I kept all the decision dates front and center, I’d be so anxious that I wouldn’t be able to function.
There is one date I have not been able to get out of my mind that arrives today. The decision-makers say “early/mid-April.” I’m writing my memoir, and I have 280 pages written. In early February (the deadline was February 10), I applied to a memoir incubator program. This is a year-long intensive course that focuses only on memoirs. It is competitive: Only 10 applicants are accepted, and on top of my full-time job, the workload would be significant. The class meets one evening a week for three hours, but each week you are expected to produce a specific word count, read and give constructive criticism on a fellow writer’s work, and read other memoirs.
I want this badly. Now that the window is here, I am getting anxious. I can only imagine the spike in my anxiety when their email finally appears in my inbox.
As Sweeny said, “It’s also the case that personality matters. So, people who have an overall tendency towards what psychologists call ‘neuroticism,’ which is essentially emotional instability combined with a negative emotional kind of tendency—unsurprisingly, those folks tend to deal with more worry than folks who are less neurotic or lower in neuroticism.”
How would I classify myself? Although I haven’t met the criteria for BPD for years now, I still cringe when I hear emotional instability. I suppose I will always have more of an inclination in that direction than not. Do I tend to lean toward more of a negative emotional state? Having been what I’ve been through, it would be surprising if I didn’t.
So, the question remains: What is worse, waiting or being the recipient of bad news? In the case of waiting for this decision, I would have to say being the recipient of a rejection. The way I look at it, as long as I’m still waiting, I have hope. Once I receive a “No,” there is a finality I can’t change.
A 2015 study led by Sweeny looked at that question and concluded, “Anxiety was higher in anticipation of bad news (at least at the moment of truth) than in the face of it, whereas other negative emotions were more intense following the news than during the waiting period. Thus, whether waiting is ‘the hardest part’ depends on whether one prefers to be racked with anxiety or afflicted with other negative emotions such as anger, disappointment, depression, and regret.”
I wish you peaceful waiting and all positive outcomes.
