I deal with irrational anxiety a lot. I leave the house, leaving Tango at home, and start to fret. I convince myself, against all reason, that I left something dangerous, or left his cage open, or somehow something will happen while I am away, to take this precious life from me. I know where it comes from, but knowing does not make the thoughts any easier to banish, nor does knowing he is healthy, happy and well fed.
This is the tip of my iceberg. I have talked before about how I can easily become convinced the car is about shot. I can also turn a brief period of no contact into a lifetime rift, complete with catastrophic conversations that l know will happen exactly as I envision them despite all evidence to follow. I have, in fact killed relationships with these freakouts. That is, I become convinced that the person is dodging me, and escalate to inappropriate responses
This is not easy to talk about. It feels embarrassing, emasculating... it feels like shit you don't discuss, as a man. You just suppress it, grease it up with motor oil and swallow it down deep. You pack it down with bacon and move on. And you die strong and they put up a statue to your manliness somewhere... in a garage or something. with a floor drain
I deal... not great. I tend to comment inappropriately, crack jokes, tell stories. Make pop culture references. So much so, that it's become people's expectation, and I live to exceed expectations.
So here is my moment of brutal confession. Read or don't, sympathize or give me the boot. This will not be the first, or the last moment of real interspersed among the toy pictures