Buzzkill

Well, thank you, Debbie Downer, for yesterday’s post. Sheesh. The last thing one needs on the threshold of her fifty-fifth birthday is a reminder, even a semi-positive one, of tragedy and mourning. While the subject is true enough, and the post was, I guess, as uplifting as one can make it, it was also evidence of the panic my mind went into on discovering that a) I am on vacation and b) all is well.

Honestly, I was amazed at the abnormally dark and dangerous thoughts that taunted me throughout much of Tuesday. At first, I was actually immobilized by them. Everything from locking the basement door between laundry loads, which I never do, to picturing Ter being T-boned at a left turn, which I never do, came to mind in such a short space of time that it was soon obvious something was afoot.

Someone was trying too hard to scare me out of my happy.

Turned out to be myself.

Not myself in the divine sense, of course. Myself in the intellectual/egotistic sense. Yup, my compostable white knight, the disk operating system assigned to keep my physical self safe and alive, didn’t have a lot to do on Tuesday, and facing a fortnight of days off with not a darned thing to worry about, she freaked out in a big way.

Once I figured out what was happening, I was able to stop it. I just said, “Stop!” And it worked. I could almost hear the whimpering as my mind shrank into a corner to suck her thumb. She poked her head out a few times during the day, but now that I was on to her, she didn’t get very far before I sent her scooting back to her corner.

As for why, all I can conjure is the suspicion that I usually run on so much adrenaline, always thinking ahead because Ru time is defined by my work schedule, that when I take my foot off the gas, my mind views it as a threat and sets out to convince me that the world is scarier on vacation than it is in everyday life!

Nice try, girlfriend.

The conscious mind is uncomfortable with silence. It’s awkward with contentment, and if the present moment is tranquil, it won’t last “so you’d better buckle up for what’s coming because if you’re not braced and breathing fast, you’ll be horribly maimed for not having listened to me!”

Relax, Compostable Ru. You’re fine. All is well; you’re safe, Ter is safe, and no one is imperilled just because I’m taking a few days off. This moment is most precious for being one of a kind, so I intend on enjoying it—and if you calm down and breathe, you’re welcome to enjoy it with me.

There. Doesn’t that feel better?

You bet it does.

With love,