My super power, let me show you it.

I am Worst Case Scenario Girl.

Let me catch the slightest glimpse of any bit of anything, and I can immediately run it down the path to its worst possible conclusion.

I don’t mean that I can just tell you things that could go wrong. Actually, I likely won’t say anything to you about i at all. I just fast forward be boop Be BoOP BE BOOP in my mind right through ALL the bad bits. I hear it. I smell it. I feel the trauma. I experience telling others the bad news. I attend the funeral, and get into an argument with somebody there, and get a flat tire between the funeral location and the cemetery causing me to be late to the burial.

This happens unbidden and very rapidly. I do not need anybody to tell me things will be okay. I don’t need anybody to tell me that my response is ridiculous. I have been doing this as long as I can remember and I already know that most of the time when I get an unexpected phone call, it is just because somebody decided to call me unexpectedly, and not because “omg the sky is falling”. It is just something that happens, and I cope. Most of the time. Yes, my blood pressure skyrockets and my heart races and my stress level soars, but I don’t freak out and I recover quickly. I am used to living with an impending sense of doom. While it was a propensity I was apparently born with (I used to call them daymares when I was young) rather than a talent I have developed, after all of these years, it serves me fairly well. Bad things do not shock me and knock me on my ass, and in general, in the moment of an emergency, I am able to deal with things reasonably well.

This does have some relation to hating the phone though. It is not the only reason I hate the phone, but it definitely is a good portion of why I hate receiving unexpected phone calls. I often answer those with “What’s wrong?” or “What happened?” and it irritates the shit out of me when the person at the other end insists on going through, “Hello.” “How are you?” “What are you doing?” before they will tell me why they are calling.

To say I am a worrier is something of an understatement.

My mother and her husband like to backpack. They like to go deep into the wilderness away from all people. I understand the being away from people part, but I like to do that with a moat and razor wire. I do not like to leave air conditioning, indoor plumbing or internet behind. In fact I hate it. They we an backpacked in Alaska for their honeymoon, carrying enough for one week and having a plan drop stuff out of it at a specific point for week two. My little sister grew up doing that sort of thing with them.

Every summer they go off for a few weeks. The entire time they are gone I SEE all the bad that could befall them. I await anxiously for their return, or worse yet, their lack of return.

This year they invited our daughter to go with them. *shudder* Now, it isn’t that I NEVER let her out of my sight, but being out of range of speaking to me, or of 911 for several days in a row… That is not easy on me. However, life is not about being easy on me. I do not choose to let her do just anything that comes up, but I also work to not let my beyond worrier status keep her from experiencing things which will be enriching for her.

This year she went with them. Visions of fires and bears and horrible rashes and injured backs and rattlesnake bites danced in my head.

And it has been horrible. She went with only my sister and my mother’s husband. My mother stayed this time for reasons which are a very long story. This made it even more difficult, because my mother is the one that am more confident will be aware of the little safety details. This has left me with even less peace of mind.

More than that though, having her gone, out of even telephone reach, feels like an appendage missing. I rarely have the “yay no kid!” feeling for more than an hour or two. Having her gone feels a lot like how I imagine losing an appendage feels. It is a HUGE gap in my life, and there is that sense of a phantom limb to deal with too. She may drive me fucking batty but she is so dear to me. When we are not at each others throats, we understand each other very well. I am doing my best to raise her to be independent, and I damn well expect her to move out and leave and start her own life and not be with me all the time. That is for the future. Right now? Right now I like to touch base with her regularly. That is what is comfortable to me. That is what feels natural.

It isn’t only me. The night before she left, I could not peel her off of me. She was snuggled close, not wanting to go. Wanting the trip, but not wanting the distance.

So she left on a Monday, due back on Tuesday the following week. The original plan had been to stay out until Wednesday, but while I was comfortable letting her be gone for my birthday, I did not want her gone for her father’s milestone birthday. Out of range for just over a week.

Tonight, just a bit ago, the phone rang and the caller ID was one of their cell phones, and my heart STOPPED.

However, they are okay. The heat chased them out early. Nobody is hurt. Well, I think perhaps my daughter has been irreparably damaged, because she said “Oh my god, Denny’s is THE MOST AMAZING PLACE ON EARTH!” I hope that is temporary delirium from too much heat, days of eating out of foil packets, and not having a toilet to sit on for a week.

So, now I am sitting here on the sofa typing this and waiting for my (no doubt truly amazingly smelly) daughter to return home. She will be here for my birthday. Of course, this means our reservations for 3 are now fucked, because there will be six of us, and I need to make other plans. I don’t care though. I mean, I don’t care about losing out on the dinner. Making new plans does cause some stress, but that is my normal state.

Soon she will be home, where she belongs, pissing me off as easily as she breathes, as she should be.

Tags being me - Parenting - stressy-itis