A little conversation with a friend/fellow blogger last night sparked a realization that we share a pretty sweet superpower. I mean, this ability actually allows us to make things happen….with our minds.
More people possess this power than some may think. Your mother, brother, sister, alcoholic uncle, hell – maybe even YOU!
That’s right boys and girls, no cape or pair of tights needed for this one! I can do this with my eyes closed! In my pajamas! At work! While drinkin’ a beer! In the shower! While crying into a tub of froyo!
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s…
Not what you were expecting, eh? Well not every superpower is so glamorous, ya know.
Suffering from anxiety makes me feel a little crazy, but then I take a deep breath and remember I’m not the only one who thinks that ringing in her ears is every single person she knows saying something bad about her. I’ve even tried that whole “relax, stop giving a sh*t” thing, but yeah, that doesn’t work.
When I began dating my (now) husband, I was head over heels from the start. He was intelligent, hilarious, a very fine musician, and a bonus, extremely good-looking. But I wanted to, uh, “keep my cool”. Not seem clingy, ya know? I wanted to look all cool and stuff. If only he could have seen me tearing my own thumbs away from my phone’s keyboard, I wouldn’t have looked all cute and mysterious. Having a pep talk with yourself while in your pajamas – and probably watching a Lifetime movie – doesn’t file under either “cute” nor “mysterious” in my book. I wanted so badly to see him, all the time, but knew if he felt the same he’d contact me. And he always did. (And no, I don’t mean to say the man should do all of the work – in this scenario, he worked nights as a bartender, so I avoided “bothering” him while at work. But that’s another issue for another post!)
Anyway, my friend Sarah and I spent a lot of time together during the entire courting stage, and I have to thank her for not bashing her head against a wall for all the times she listened to my lavish stories.
Me: “I texted Joe, and he hasn’t texted me back yet. It’s been like, two hours.”
Sarah: “Dude, maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe he’s at work. Maybe he’s watching a movie.”
Me: “No, no he must have met someone else. His house must be on fire and he’s locked inside. Should we go save him? Maybe he left the country. His car must be broken down in a remote area with no cell service. Maybe his phone died. Someone stole his phone! OH GOD HE WAS ROBBED AND MURDERED!”
Sarah: “I really dislike you sometimes.”
Good thing I already roped him into marrying me. Love you, Joe. 🙂
On a podcast over at Peter DeWolf, Peter and ChowderHead discuss women, and expressing emotions; along the way something is mentioned about being the “writerly” type and the advantages and disadvantages that brings to the table in a relationship. For me, being a writer suffering from anxiety is like being that bull in that china shop. Every single thing I look at and listen to becomes a story in my head, ranging anywhere from mild to downright insane. Good material, I guess. ::sigh::
But like I said before: I have the ability to put this power to use any time, any where. Like that time we flew to Disneyworld and I sipped away on my Jack & Diet while in my mind the plane malfunctioned and nosedived into the ocean and Joe and I said our romantic goodbyes and everyone attended my funeral, even that girl I hate, any my mom said something really nice, and everyone cried, then they buried me WHEN I SPECIFICALLY SAID I WANTED TO BE CREMATED. Ahem.
Some days I’ll be on an elevator at work and picture my entire day coming to a halt because I’m stuck for hours on the damn thing. I even consider how bad it would suck, depending on the temperature in there.
Some nights I’m on the train or walking to my car and I keep my phone at the ready in case I’m mugged or an attempted rape occurs. But that’s because these things really happen, because the world sucks sometimes, and it’s a good thing to be alert in these situations.
So would anyone else like to reveal themselves? Don’t be shy. We’re just extra special.