At first I’m just pissed off. I made an actual supper, and Matt is late. He had to pick up Astrid at gymnastics at 5:00 sharp. I calculate that he spent – max – five minutes signing her out, so he would have been to pick up Akeyla at preschool at 5:30 – at the latest. Then, even if they hit all the lights on Haywood Road, they should have been pulling into the driveway no later than 5:45. Supper is ready, and it is fish. And you don’t keep hot fish waiting, people.
As 5:45 ticks on to 5:50, I move through the stages of tardiness grief to denial. It’s not soooooo late, I think. They’ve gotten home this late before. I’m sure everything is OK.
Actually, there is no ticking, since all the clocks in the kitchen are digital, but the clock in my brain – my anxiety clock – is throbbing against my temple as the seconds slip by. And quickly I move from denial to fear. And stay there. Clearly, there has been a terrible accident. I am certain of it as 6:00 rolls over on the stove display.
I pull up the Department of Transportation Twitter feed, searching for accidents on their path home. If they aren’t home by 6:30, I will start calling hospitals.
At 6:04, I text my sister – my poor, unsuspecting sibling, no doubt preparing her own supper a time zone away: Matt & kids not home surely they r dead.
At 6:12, I prepare for the worst. I imagine what it will be like when the police come to the door. I put on actual pants and a bra should I have to rush out to the hospital. I plan their funerals. I mentally lay out what I will wear; I wonder if I will be able to speak or if I will be too overcome. I wonder if there is enough Klonopin in the world to get me through something like that. I decide it would be a good idea to take one right now. I struggle in my mind to cope with life after the loss of my family.
At 6:21, they rush through the door, all hugs and squeals and telling me about their days. “Mom, I did a back handspring!” “Mommy, I made this picture for you!” Matt asks me why I am crying. “You are so late!” I accuse. “Really? I had to stop at a client’s and drop off some keys.” “The fish is ruined now,” I sob.
My dad used to tell us that “the things you worry about most never happen.” I’m sure he meant this as a worry deterrent, but I always took it as, “OK, if I super-worry about this – worry about it the most ever – it won’t happen.” And I am proven right, yet again.
Family.
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THAT’S IT EXACTLY! I worry so I am prepared for the worst and to make it less likely to happen by virtue of my preparedness. I’d like to say I’m glad it’s not just me but really, I wish it were because it can be horrible.
I can’t imagine you not being prepared for anything, what with your Mary Poppins purse and all . . .
I do the exact. Same. Thing. Down to funeral arrangements and real pants. But god forbid I pick up my cell phone and call or text the late party. Because they are obviously in a hospital and I don’t want to bother them.
Right! I didn’t want to text because it would DISTRACT HIM in the emergency.
Yeah, this. This is me at 6:36 when hubs has told me he left work and should have been home 20 minutes ago. Knowing my husband, he’s been out in his truck listening to the radio for 15. As always, Reedster, I love your storytelling.
Thanks, Funk!
Well this wa certainly worth the wait! Fantastic post. I may have to read it twice. And then start a twitter thread about it that goes viral. Seriously, you do not disappoint! Sorry you had to go through that but I have been there oh have I been there. Putting the bra on = classic.
Please, make me go viral. You have that power and you’ve been hiding it?
I don’t like to show off. I mean, really. I’ve only been blogging for a month. I don’t want to show all my best moves right out the gate.
Wait, is this an abnormal reaction to your husband being late!? Dayum, and here I thought I was normal!
Been there done this countless times. I find it pretty much impossible to rein in. Even with the anti-anxiety meds. Ugh, frustrating. Nice storytelling. Great flow. Nice updates with the minutes ticking by. And of course, the happy ending.
I think wives and mothers all over the world can relate to your story. We’ve all been there. Has he no cell phone? Great post.
He does, but you can’t call or text because that might make the disaster even worse, or CAUSE ONE by distracting him. Those are the rules of anxiety, you see.
Me too, worry sister. I did it as a kid when my parents went out on dates…pictured the sheriff at the door and worried who was going to raise me. I do it still.
I was there with you every step of the way! I also get stuck in the morbid/worst case thoughts and then feel relief that all my worrying “fixed” the situation! I’m happy to know I’m not the only powerful one!
Yes! By the power of worry, we can change the future!
One time the dog ran after a deer and a minute later I was wondering if his old collars still smelled like him.
I know! It is amazing how fast our minds can shoot from normal to disaster mode.
What memories this brought to mind, as though you were writing my actions/thoughts when Kyle was young. Loved reading it!
I used to worry myself sick too. Then my worst nightmare did come traipsing through and now I can’t let myself do those exercises AT ALL or I freak the eff out! For me everything is possible, so I root myself firmly in denial or it is not happy time inside my head.
Great post!!
I thought of this after I posted – I hope not to hurt anyone who actually has had their worst worries come true. I know your story from your blog Carrie. Hugs.
No worries! its actually the reason I don’t suffer from anxiety very much anymore lol. I compare everything to Preston and think if I can get through that…than THIS is no issue.
And I thought I was the anxiety queen — looks like there are a bunch of us out there. I stand at the window, too, so I can see when he pulls up, even if it is dark outside.
I love the comedic pathos. I totally do this, especially when traffic is concerned. I try to prepare everything for the things I won’t be able to handle once the horrible thing is real. Only then everything is fine.
The moral of the story here is do NOT make a “real dinner”. That’s the crux of the issue. If you had been sitting on the sofa watching Mad Men on Netflix, you wouldn’t have even noticed that they were late. This is how I prevent anxiety.
Right. From now on it is pizza and wall to wall Kardashians after work.
You know who strikes again? You– always with the wonderful, heartstopping writing. My favorite part was that you checked the Twitter feed of the USDOT. That’s fucking awesome. And no, you don’t keep fish waiting….or mommies with anxiety disorders. You hit it out of the park again. Thanks for the inspiration.
Guilty! I actually have the motto, “Expect the best, but prepare for the worst.” My husband thinks it’s pessimistic, but it gets me through the day, ya know?
You couldn’t have said it more perfectly. It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who plans funerals in my head. Your writing was so straightforward.
Thanks Shosh
Great post! Glad you got it up here! I know the feeling. Except I don’t plan funerals, I plan life after them. Not sure which is better. Glad everyone was safe.
You really conveyed the anxiety in this post. For sure. Excuse me while I go do some yoga breathing to calm down. And not with old people. I’d be too worried about them keeling over. Ellen
Oh wow! This is exactly my type of thought process. Small situation causes total freak out and my imagination goes wild, I’m reaching for the klonopin and it turns out to be benign. I even follow twisted logic along the lines of your interpretation of your dad’s words.
Ugh. Felt my heart pounding as I read this. And for the record, when the bad thing happened to me, it was EXACTLY the way I imagined it. Double ugh. Everyone made it out alive, but our powerful imaginations have it just right—down to the knock on the door. Great post. Erin
Wow! I could have written this to a tee! Like exactly. My dad said something similar to me once too. Great post, I was right there with you!
This is exactly what I would do if my husband was late. I didn’t know anyone else felt that way. Thank you for letting me know that I am not alone.
I am exactly like this. Same thing goes for tornadoes and shark attacks – I realize it’s one in a million, but I’m worried I’ll be that ONE. And if I worry about it, it won’t happen. Ta da!
oh lordie i always do the same damn thing. ugh. there’s no excuse today, though. how hard is it to send a text saying i’ll be late. yet, my hubs never does and if he has my Lovie with him, especially, i totally freak out. i have the gray hair to prove it, believe me. LOVE the picture.
I freak out like this if I have left my hubby and I was in a bad mood an I think I’ll never see him again and his last memory of me will be me being pissy. I combat this by trying to never be pissy when leaving the house, LOL! Excellent post.
I used to to be like this when I first got married, but my husband is always late and never calls. After 13 years of that, I don’t freak out anymore. But now I worry something awful will happen and I won’t know it and everybody will think it’s “suspicious” I didn’t call anyone sooner and then I’ll get arrested and my kids will have to go live with their grandparents and visit me once a month in jail. So yeah, I can relate to the postmortem planning part.
I did that…back when I was married. I am so glad now that I don’t have to think about it, because I never knew when he was coming or going or where he was…it’s a relief, because I knew all the hospital numbers by heart…
I do the same exact thing, but have to admit that when I’m the late one, it never occurs to me.
I think the moral of the story is fish is gross, so you shouldn’t make it for dinner.
Great story! I’m such a professional worrier that I was also certain your whole family had died and left you a widow with ruined fish on her hands. Whew.
Nice post! I do this too and I think its gotten worse since I became a parent. It makes me want to give Evolution a major side eye because, seriously, Evolution? How does this level of worry help us adapt and survive as a species? You could have gone with telekinesis or cat like stealth but instead you went with an unreasonably high level of completely unproductive worry about our offspring? Jeez. Way to be a dick.
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I can’t believe how much detail you fit into a 500 word post! This story was so honest and perfect and raw.
You’re awesome.
I also dislike pants, and can see myself doing and saying everything as you have.
Great job on this one!
This is the second time I have read this. The first time it was too hard to comment because I understood so well what you were saying, and I almost wound up having anxiety just thinking of the anxiety. It is this exactly…the spiral down, the going from the small feeling to the overwhelming chasm. I get it.
So I spazzed out a little when I saw “Astrid” because that name is still on my baby name list from my first child and I was made to believe I was the only one. Just for that, I’m switching Shiftless Husband to Bill Clinton’s low-fat vegan diet for a week. But I digress.
There is so much perfection in this post. Your text to your sister with the always hilarious word “surely” (try using it and not smiling, I can’t.), the fact that you looked at DOT’s twitter feed…all the way to the unexpected realization of how your dad’s advice got a practical, yet not as helpful, twist.
I consciously choose to worry about things because I believe that makes them not happen and, in the event my foolproof plan fails, at least I’ve spent the last few hours preparing myself. Then I start to wonder why I think my thoughts have the power to control the universe and whether that is a sign of an impending psychotic break. So then I worry about that and it has staved off any madness so far.
Liz, There are very, very few Astrids – I think it was no. 989 on the Social Security list of top 1000 names when we named ours. Still room for your Astrid
Thank you so much for your kind words about the post. I am in awe of your endlessly creative writing style so this means so much to me.
You own a bra?
That ‘relief’ feeling…. there’s nothing like it in the world. It has an amazing effect of putting life in perspective.
Enjoyed!
Michael A. Walker
Defying Procrastination
Humor with poignancy. Well done, Reedster.