WELCOME TO MY CRAZY HEAD
I was awake at 5am, largely thanks to my youngest child, but in reality I was already nervously lost in my own ridiculousness.
I say that smiling, but in all honesty my heart was thumping and my fingers shaking. My husband was about to get on a plane for work and already, my crazy had begun.
I felt even writing about it was tempting fate; tempting the fate I’d firmly set in my head.
You see, after watching the gorgeous Kerri Sackville talk about her book The Little Book of Anxieties, I recognised something in myself.
It’s something I’d never spoken about because firstly, I didn’t understand what I suffered from, but also because I’d convinced myself that if I did speak out loud about it, whatever awful disaster I was imagining in my head would actually come true. It would happen and I would be responsible.
I couldn’t sit alone with my thoughts anymore.
They plagued me. They frightened and worried me. I decided if I wrote them down it might help me face the crazy head on.
I rambled. My fingers were paralysed.
My nervousness was compounded by the fact I dreamed I was standing on a beach, watching a plane circle. Moments later, the plane nose-dived into the swirling sea. I fell to my hands and knees crying. I’d awoken with a start, wanting to tell my husband I had had a terrifying nightmare, but I didn’t want to worry him. I knew it was just me projecting things that would not happen.
I watched my husband walk out the door. I wanted to grab him and say: “Please don’t go, please stay”. I didn’t, I just hugged him tight. I always make sure I hug him like it’s the last time. I know this freaks him out, as it would me, if I was in his place.
Prior to him leaving, I went through my ritual; my ritual I had never told anyone about until yesterday.
I visualised him leaving, getting into his car, driving through the streets of Adelaide, getting on the plane, flying safely over the water to Port Lincoln. I imagined him getting in another car, driving safely around the town, stopping to take photographs, before driving back to the airport and getting on another plane.
I’ve visualised that plane flying back safely over the water, landing in Adelaide and him driving safely through the suburban streets back home to us. In my head, I’d already played out the moment he walked back through the door and I’d hugged him as he looked into the room at our three sleeping children.
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