Overactive Imagination

I inherited something super-fun from my mother, who, as I've recently learned, seems to have inherited it from her mother. It's called "an overactive imagination."

For those of you who may be unfamiliar with this particular issue, let me explain. What happens is usually something along these lines: "I haven't talk to so-and-so lately, even though they said they'd call. They must be dead."

There's also the ever-popular "I have a really bad headache today. I wonder if it's a brain tumor?"

And, "I heard a faint noise in my house. It's the middle of the night. I'd better grab the nearest weapon (aka, a safety razor from the bathroom) and go make sure my daughter isn't being kidnapped."

My mother and I (and probably my grandma, too) all recognize that we have this problem. We're completely aware that our fears are almost certainly unfounded. We even laugh about it. But not until after we know for sure that our fears were not, in fact, realized.

Don't get me wrong, though. It's not like I spend all my time in a perpetual state of worry. And I'm not a hypochondriac. I've never once actually gone to the doctor because of headaches that might be brain tumors. I recognize that it's just my overactive imagination at work, and let it go.

But when something unexpected happens, like a sound in the night, my imagination goes into overdrive. I find myself in a state of extreme nervousness. I have to make sure all is well before I can relax.

And that's what I'm waiting for today. My husband is deployed at the moment, so naturally I fear for his safety. But I hear from him every day, which reassures me and keeps my imagination at bay. The problem is, I haven't heard from him since Wednesday. Today is supposed to be his day off from flying, so there's no reason he should be unreachable. And yet, I can't reach him.

My mind is telling me that it's silly to be worried. He's probably fine. He may be napping, or at the gym. And maybe he got in so late last night that we just didn't get a chance to talk. There's no reason to be freaking out yet.

And I'm not freaking out. But, thanks to my overactive imagination, I'm slowly getting there.

Let's face facts! He is in a dangerous situation. He's fighting a war, for crying out loud! He's living in a part of the world where there are multitudes of people who want to kill him, and every other member of our military. Granted, since he's a pilot, he's probably safer than a lot of the other servicemen and women. But that doesn't mean that he's guaranteed to be safe. When someone is in the military, there's always a greater chance that they'll be killed or wounded, compared to those who work in regular jobs, like accounting or plumbing. So my fears aren't completely unreasonable.

So that's where I'm at today. Worrying about my husband, and trying to convince myself that it's just my imagination working overtime. To be fair, it probably is just my imagination. There's no reason to assume the worst. But I can't seem to help it.

It's in my genes.