I spent chunks of the 25 hour flight here with my sunglasses on to mask the tears that just wouldn't stop. As I felt the plane accelerating to takeoff, I thought, "maybe it will crash and then I won't have spend the rest of my life living with the repercussions of all the decisions I'm about to make" and I really meant it. So afraid of regrets, you see?

But at some point, in transit in Addis, I laughed out loud when I asked two ladies wearing badges and uniforms for directions from the deplaning area to the transit area and they simultaneously pointed in two opposite directions. That's Addis, and it's funny. And then checking my email, I found one from my sister - she's been trying to call, but we just didn't make it work with time zones and travel, and, oh, she's getting married! I admit to a very brief and extremely overwhelming wave of self-pity and self-doubt because omg the timing (and also - this is the life I'm fighting so hard for? the one where my only sister tells me she's getting married by email because we are all so far away from each other? that's stupid), but also, joy. This is good. Things keep moving. I got over myself and sent some nice notes.

And now. A week went by. I survived, we all survive. BT is meeting me in DC next week. I don't know what will happen, but I think at least no one is rushing into anything. I've reached a "whatever will be, will be" place and this limbo is preferable. The crushing sense of impending grief and loss and the feeling of my universe collapsing was untenable (because of my own choices! can't I take it back? I take it back! but no, I don't, can't! etc.).

This week in East Africa just passed in a jet-lagged, hazy blur. In the middle of the night, unable to sleep, I would refresh/refresh/refresh craigslist sites, trying to figure out the neighbourhoods, looking at impossible housing prices. This move is going to be another temporary one on my way to wherever it is I'm going. But I'm going to do it.

4:37 a.m. - 2016-06-18