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.