I am just one big wad of neuroses.
Hows that for an opening line? Alright... lets see where I can take it...
A couple of years ago, I started going to a homeopathic MD. In that first visit, he spend a lot of time asking me questions in order to choose the proper homeopathic remedy for my particular problem. Very in-depth questions about my temperament and personality. Even though I have a basic understanding of how homeopathy works, I remember that I felt a little injured and melancholy when I left because I felt like he spent the whole time digging into all the irritating things I don't like about myself. I understand that, of course, that's how homeopathy works-- find precisely the right remedy for the patient.
But I was miffed. In fact, I stubbornly insisted that I'm not a "worrier".
"'Worry'?? Noooo.... I wouldn't say I worry..."
"Not even a little?" the good doctor inquired...
"Weeeelll... uh... no. I wouldn't say that I'm a 'worrier'." I stated.
"Does she worry?" he asked Nathan.
Nathan looked pointedly uncomfortable. "Um. Yyyyyes."
Me: insulted! "Why! ME? No... Welll... anxiety, perhaps... yes, just a little... but not 'worrying'."
The astute doctor was right, of course. I actually am a worrier. I'm trying to accept this about myself.
I am fascinated with the human body and it's amazing creation and inner workings. All the intricate mechanisms that God put in place to make everything work together so smoothly! Amazing! I learn about the body and the health of it. I read endlessly. I'm fairly, "in touch" with my own body and what's going on with it.
Well, it turns out that I know just enough to hang myself.
I get a particularly bad headache and hm, I can feel my pulse awfully strong... and this headache is a little... strange... and I HAVE AN ANEURYSM! I'm going to die!
Or a little stomach ache after supper and... it sure hurts right there under my right ribs just to the side of my stomach and... I'M HAVING A GALL BLADDER ATTACK! Or no, I'm sure it hurts here in the lower right quadrant and I'm convinced it must be MY APPENDIX IS BLOWING UP! I'm going to die!
After all, I've never missed an episode of House so I know very well that every fainting spell invariably leads to seizures and bleeding out of every orifice.
So every time I get a "little" something, my crazy, hypochondriac brain manages to convince me that it's surely much more severe that it appears and I might not wake up tomorrow and I have to DO! SOMETHING! NOW! Or I'll clearly die.
"Yes, dear, you are dying. We are all dying." Nathan says as he goes back to reading the news.
Tonight I was ranting and freaking about my latest "little something" that is causing my brain to have an attack of appendicitis. I actually have an appointment scheduled with a Naturopath, but it's two weeks from now, and I don't really know how I can live with my brain until then. It just. won't. shut. up. So I discharged it all over my poor, sweet husband.
I said Blah! Blah, blah, blah! Blah!
And Nathan said Simple solution!
And I said Blah! Blah!
And he said Solution!
"Look!" I said. "I KNOW that men have this ability to just compartmentalize things so that they don't have to think about them anymore, but I DO NOT HAVE THAT ABILITY! I am a woman. Women can multitask and that involves not compartmentalizing."
"Oh." he said. "Well, then, carry on, you neurotic, crazy woman."
But I'm not a "worrier" you see. I just suffer from anxiety.