I’m starting to think that freelancing isn’t a good job for someone who experienced her first anxiety attack at the age of 16. I worry about everything. Just as my husband is constantly organizing data sets in his head, I am always running the worst case scenario through my mind.
Some of the best examples of this are my fears: radiation, leeches, and cars. I am completely serious. I saw a show on Hiroshima when I was a kid, and I have never shook the feeling that I could be walking down the street one day and be blasted with a huge dose of radiation. BAM! A slow and cruel death caused by the gradual deterioration of my cells. Leeches? Why leeches? I get this question all the time. It’s not from reading The Body or watching Stand By Me. It is the fact that they could be on you can you wouldn’t even know. How creepy is that? Why don’t I have a similar fear of ticks? I don’t know. I’ve seen a ton of those and no leeches. Maybe the fear of the unknown?
The last fear is of cars. I’ve been in a few accidents. Thankfully, nothing too bad. Nothing enough to scare me that badly. It was all these dreams and visions I had as a kid (and still have). I always woke up in the back seat of a moving car. I couldn’t stop it no matter how hard I tried, and it was running into a wall. Sometimes what I do makes things worse and sometimes it does nothing at all.
Those dreams, coupled with the fact that I have an active imagination and literally see a fiery crash every few minutes when I’m on the road, keep me from driving.
Why would I write all these neurotic confessions out? I’m trying to get myself to stop sweating the small stuff. I’m very driven; I just don’t want to drive myself to an early grave.
I find myself constantly fretting over deadlines, triple-checking sources, and referencing emails near a half-dozen times before even starting a response. After another dozen references, I’m done with the email. Some may think this is a good thing, but when I go back and reference emails, I feel like I over-engineer things. That’s another thing, I go back and review things constantly. Things that don’t even matter. I realized I was rewriting a story I wrote for my sophomore high school yearbook IN MY HEAD the other day.
I called my mom frantic last week because I had a feeling that something bad happened. Even after she assured me everything was fine, I couldn’t shake the feeling for two days. This stuff drives me crazy.
This has been one of the main problems with my creative writing, I can’t freewrite for very long before without going back over everything and erasing it. This is one of the things I like about writing for this blog. I rarely worry about what I write here, but maybe I should. (Oh no, here I go again.)