Mental battles. Aren't they the greatest? I recently found myself fighting a big one. Epic. It was keeping me up at night and dominating all my quiet moments.
Long story short, I was completely over-analyzing a situation. I was deconstructing all of my words and actions, and wondering how people interpreted them. Did they read things this way? That way? Sideways? I hope they didn't read it that way. Or *that* way. Yikes. What if they did? I bet they did. I bet they're angry / hurt / suspicious / disgusted / disappointed. I bet they think I'm a horrible person. I bet.... the downward, fearful spiral was out of control.
Do you ever have a memory so vivid you can almost hear it out loud? In the middle of my mental hurricane, I suddenly heard my father's voice: "If you tell goin' by on a gallopin' horse..."
I was nine years old, helping my Dad finish our basement. We were working on cutting paneling for the wall at the base of the stairs. I was as much of a perfectionist then as I am now. And I was getting really... um... specific... (and frustrated) with this one line in the wall.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Ever since the speakers in my car decided they'd had enough, the times I spend in my car have become wonderful periods of reflection. During one such time (driving home in the wee hours of the morning after watching Game 6 of the Red Wings / Blackhawks series), I had an epiphany. Maybe because it's Stanley Cup season and I always have hockey on the brain. Maybe it's because I feel guilty for not having a "word of the year." I don't know. But that morning I realized: